


Starting From Zero

by Lyri



Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Sex, Infidelity, Kid Fic, M/M, hospital stays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:22:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyri/pseuds/Lyri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris thought he had the perfect life - the perfect husband, two perfect daughters. It was all just...perfect. But then the reality set in, work and kids cause stress between Chris and his husband, Steve, and before he knows it, their marriage is in name only and he can't even remember the last time they spoke more than two words to each other. Having had enough of Steve's drinking and sleeping around, Chris decides enough is enough and plans to leave with their daughters. But before he can put his plan into action, a terrible accident changes everything. Now, Steve's in charge, and he has to relearn how to be a father, and - more importantly - how to be a husband.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting From Zero

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted to my Live Journal - sweet_lyri - four years ago. I'm just cleaning house and moving everything over here.
> 
> This fic was originally inspired by the song 'Fast Car' by Tracey Chapman, covered by Christian Kane. The title was also taken from the song.

**Chapter 1**

Steve Carlson glares down at the girl on her knees and tries to figure out if he ever got her name. But she’s sucking him like a Hoover, so he doesn’t really have it in him to care.

It’s over quickly, too much alcohol and too many drugs in his system for Steve to even try for control. That isn’t what it’s about, after all. He just wants to get off, and it doesn’t matter whose mouth or hand does the deed.

Steve shakes his head. That isn’t true, he does care, and that’s why he’s getting a blowjob in the back alley of some seedy L.A. bar from a girl whose name he didn’t even bother to find out.

The girl sits back on her heels and grins up at him, wiping off her mouth as Steve tucks himself back into his jeans.

“So, uh, listen,” she starts, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “My place is nearby, if you want to continue this.”

Steve runs his fingers through her shoulder length brown hair, finally remembering why he’d decided to take her up on her offer in the first place.

He had thought that if he closed his eyes and went with it, he could pretend, just for a little while, that he was with the only person he ever wanted to be with.

But it hadn’t worked, and now he just feels even more depressed that before.

With a deep sigh, Steve gently, but firmly, pushes the girl away so that he can get out from between her and the wall. “Sweetheart, why would I want to go anywhere with you?”

He’s being mean, undeservedly so, but it’s like he can’t stop himself. It’s like he thinks everyone should be as miserable as he is.

“Hey!” she yells, getting to her feet so that she can chase him down the alley. “You’re just going to take what you want and leave?”

Steve nods. “Yep.” He reaches the main street and steps to the curb to hail a cab.

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?” the nameless girl spits at him.

Before he gets into the cab, Steve turns and gives her a tight smile.

“My husband tells me that every day.”

He leaves her gawping on the sidewalk as he gets into the back seat of the cab, giving the driver his address.

He uses the ride home to sober up a little, hoping he won’t be too hung over for work in the morning. Lately, Jensen's been getting less and less tolerant of Steve’s nightly activities, and Steve can’t help but think that he’s letting his best friend and business partner down by what he’s doing.

He knows he’s drinking too much, doing too many drugs, and the whole point of having a best friend like Jensen Ackles is so that he’s able to go to him when he has problems.

But the problems with his personal life have gotten so bad that Steve’s kind of ashamed. He let things go too far, didn’t try to fix them, and now everything’s fucked to hell and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

So now he goes out, gets lost in the bottom of a bottle or the end of a rolled up five dollar bill, and tries to pretend that everything that’s wrong in his life isn’t his fault.

He fails more often that he succeeds.

When the cab pulls up in front of the driveway of his house, Steve looks out the window to see the living room light glowing softly through the pulled drapes.

Steve sighs and pays the driver, swallowing down the urge to tell him to turn around and drive back to the bar.

It’s almost three in the morning and there’s a reason Steve comes home so late.

Because his husband is usually in bed by then.

@@@

Christian Kane hears the car stop in front of the house and has to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself down enough to remain seated on the couch.

He has no idea what possessed him to stay up and wait for Steve, but he knows Steve would have seen the light from outside, so can’t exactly escape upstairs before his husband comes in.

So he stays where he is, curled up on the couch with one of Brett’s stuffed animals in his lap.

Once he closes and locks the front door behind him, Steve stands in the doorway of the living room, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and looking anywhere but at Chris.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“It’s late,” Chris says in lieu of a greeting, “where have you been?”

Steve snorts. “Do you care?”

Chris winces. He can understand Steve’s reaction, because for the past year or so he’s been acting like he doesn’t care, when the truth is he couldn’t care more if he tried. Steve was growing more and more distant, and Chris didn’t know what else to do except pull away, try to protect himself and the girls as much as possible.

And just look where that’s left him.

With Brett’s stuffed animal clutched tight to his chest, Chris stands up.

“I’m tired,” he admits quietly. And God, isn’t that the truth? He’s so fucking tired of everything.

“Then go to bed. ‘Stead of waiting up so that you can yell at me,” Steve says, as Chris can tell his tired, too.

“I didn’t yell,” Chris points out. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He crosses the room and Steve steps out of the door way so that he can leave the room. He pauses when he’s next to Steve and looks at him, taking in the glassy-eyed expression from whatever drugs his husband has taken at whatever sleazy club he found himself in.

Steve turns his head away, almost like he’s embarrassed, and Chris frowns.

He leaves without another word, taking the stairs two at a time until he reaches the landing.

He stops in front of the first closed door and pushes it open as silently as he can.

Brett is snoring softly, buried beneath mounds of pink blankets and stuffed animals, only the top of her dirty blonde head visible in the dim glow of her nightlight.

Chris sets the stuffed animal he brought from downstairs on top of her dresser and leaves his youngest daughter to slumber peacefully.

Closing the door, Chris heads down the hall to the second bedroom and opens the door.

Olivia is laying spread eagled in the middle of her bed, her bedclothes a pile on the floor.

Chris huffs a laugh and moves to fix them, tucking the Dallas Cowboys sheets around her thin frame.

“Daddy?” Ollie mumbles quietly.

Chris smiles sadly at how she knew instantly that it was him and not Steve. Steve never comes near their daughters nowadays.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. Go back to sleep.”

“Is Dad home?” she asks, blinking up at him with her bright blue eyes.

“He’s downstairs,” Chris confirms.

Olivia nods and reaches out to stroke his cheek. He can’t help but lean into the little girl’s touch.

“Don’t be sad, Daddy,” she tells him.

“Go back to sleep, baby,” Chris says, fighting back tears, “it’s late.”

Chris kisses the top of her head and manages to get out of the room just second before his tears fell.

Racing across the hallway, Chris gets to his room and locks the door firmly behind him and lets himself cry freely for the first time.

His marriage is all but over.

Chris allows himself to mourn.

@@@

Steve is already gone when Chris comes downstairs the next morning, not that he’s surprised.

He crosses to the kitchen and reveals in the silence for a while as he drinks his first cup of coffee of the day, and thinks about what he came to terms with the night before, fighting back more tears.

His marriage is over.

The words echo around in his head and it’s just too huge for him to grasp, because half his life just went down the toilet.

He and Steve have been together for fifteen years, married – legal or not – for twelve. That is a long damn time to throw just because things have gotten a little hard.

Chris laughs. Things aren’t hard. They’re downright impossible.

He can’t remember the last time he had a proper conversation with Steve. They were like two ships passing in the night, except they didn’t even pass most of the time.

Chris doesn’t even know if Steve wants to save their relationship. It was obvious Steve wasn’t interested in the girls anymore, so maybe he was just sick of being tied down.

Chris can understand. He loves his daughters more than anything, but they were a big commitment, and maybe Steve has come to realize that he settled down too young or something. Maybe he wants to go out and sow his wild oats or whatever.

Chris sighs and runs his fingers through his long brown hair. Now that he’s come to terms with the fact that his marriage is dead, at least sort of, he needs a plan.

If Steve doesn’t want to save their marriage, then Chris is going to need to find somewhere else to live. Without Steve’s salary, he could never afford the mortgage they’re currently paying, so he’s going to have to find something else, something big enough for him and the girls.

He wonders if Steve would be upset if he took the girls out of California, moved them to Oklahoma to live with Chris’s parents. He knows he’s mama could use the extra help around the house now that his daddy wasn’t doing so great, and it isn’t like Chris needs to be in L.A. for work anyway. He can work from anywhere.

Brett stumbles into the room, wide awake and bouncy as ever, and Chris cuts off his depressing thoughts with a giggle as he crosses the room to her.

She’s dressed in the clothes he left out for her when he woke her, a yellow sundress with pink flowers and white bobby socks, but her pink Mary Jane’s are on the wrong feet.

“Come here, you little monkey,” Chris says with a laugh as he scoops her up. He sets her on the kitchen counter and fixes her shoes, reminding the five-year-old for the hundredth time that the buckle goes to the outside. She yawns in his face.

“Tired?” he asks, setting her feet back on the floor.

She nods, a little pitifully.

Chris frowns and presses a hand to her forehead. She feels a little warm.

“Do you feel okay, baby?”

She nods again. “Tired,” she repeats.

“Do you want to stay home today?”

“No,” Brett pouts. “It’s Abigail’s birthday. We’re gonna have cake.”

Chris chuckles. “Alright, then. Just promise me you won’t eat too much.”

“Promise, Daddy.”

Chris nods, satisfied with her answer. “Okay, come on, let me brush your hair before I get you some breakfast.”

He leads Brett to the living room, picking up a hair brush along the way.

With Brett not feeling at her best, he doesn’t opt for anything too adventurous and instead pulls her dirty blonde hair into a low ponytail, keeping it in place with colorful barrettes, trying not to imagine what a pansy Dave would call him if he could see them. Dave still thinks Chris secretly had a sex change.

He’s just finished setting a bowl of Lucky Charms on the coffee table for Brett when Olivia bounces in.

Chris gawps at her.

“What?” she huffs.

She’s wearing a pair of ratty jeans, a long sleeve white t-shirt with the Dallas Cowboys logo on the front and battered blue Chucks. Her curly brown hair hangs over her shoulders in pig-tails, messy and unkempt as always, but she refuses to let her daddy help her anymore, so she hides it under a baseball cap.

Chris sighs. “You’re gonna be a lesbian when you grow up. You’ll shave your head and join the Marines.”

“What’s a lesbian?” Brett asks.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Chris scolds. “Eat your cereal.” He turns back to Olivia and chuckles. “Go get some breakfast, we’re gonna be late. And you’re not spending anymore with Uncle Jensen and Uncle Jared.” Really, the Texans have already had enough of an influence on his eldest daughters taste in football; Chris doesn’t need them working their mojo on anything else.

Although, if he and Steve separate, Chris wonders if Jensen and Jared will even still want to see the girls.

“You always say that,” Olivia says with a roll of her eyes, but she goes to do as she’s told.

The front door crashes open and Jaden barrels into the room, heading straight for Brett and sticking his fingers into her cereal bowl. She giggles, just like she does every morning.

Jaime isn’t far behind her son, Bella in her arms.

“Morning!” she calls brightly, smiling at Olivia as she exits the kitchen with two bowls of cereal.

Chris kisses first Jaime’s cheek, then Bella’s.

“Coffee?” he asks.

“Please,” Jaime replies with a sigh, following him to the kitchen and leaving the older children in the living room. “Didn’t get much sleep last night. This little monster is teething again.” She set Bella on the floor, watching as she chews on a teething ring.

Chris laughs as he pours the coffee. “Oh, yeah. I remember that nightmare. Thank God my girls are past that stage.”

Jaime accepts the coffee and takes a sip before she narrows her eyes at him. “You don’t look like you got much sleep last night yourself. Everything okay?”

Chris takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a second.

Dave might be his best friend, has been since they were kids, but Dave’s wife is his confidant. Jaime is the only person in Chris’ life who can understand what it means to be a full time parent.

“I think my marriage is over,” he says quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

Jaime gasps and has to set down her cup because Chris can see that her hands have suddenly started shaking.

“Jesus, Chris. I knew things weren’t exactly great for you guys right now, but I didn’t think they were that bad.”

“I just can’t do it anymore, Jaime,” Chris admits. “He came home last night, or rather, this morning, reeking of beer and drugs and cheap perfume, and I’m not gonna be the one who’s stuck at home while he gets his rocks off with every girl who drops her panties.”

“Oh, my God,” Jaime sympathizes.

Chris knows she’s had her own problems with Dave and his cheating, and he’s happy that they’ve managed to work things out.

But Chris isn’t like Jaime.

He doesn’t care what excuses Steve has, he can’t accept that his husband is looking in other places for sex when he hasn’t had sex with Chris for over a year.

“What are you gonna do?” Jaime asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I don’t know. Go back to Oklahoma for a while maybe. I doubt Steve’s gonna fight for custody or visitation rights. And it’s not like I actually need to be in L.A. Beauty of being a music and art reviewer for online magazines, you can pretty much do it anywhere.”

“Yeah, but, Oklahoma?” Jaime points out. “You haven’t spent any serious time there since you left for college.”

“I know, but change is as good as a vacation, right?” He sighs.

Truth is, the last thing Chris wants to do is go back to Oklahoma, but he doesn’t think he can cope living here, knowing he could run into Steve every time he steps outside. After being together for so many years, it’s going to take Chris a long time to get used to life without Steve.

Jaime gives him a small smile. “Just promise me you won’t make any hasty decisions. There’s only a couple months left of the school year. At least wait until then before you up-root the girls. That way, at least you’ll have the whole summer vacation to get them settled some place new.” She snorts delicately. “That’s if Dave lets you go at all. You seem to be underestimating his stubbornness in this situation.”

Chris laughs, for the first time in what feels like years. “Yeah, he’ll probably barricade me in the house to stop me from leaving.”

“And that’ll be his subtle approach.”

Chris leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Jaime’s forehead. “What would I do without you guys?”

“Crash and burn,” she admits without pausing to think it over, and it’s true. They never would have survived their first few months with Olivia if it hadn’t been for Jaime and her constant support and guidance.

She’d been pregnant at the same time as their surrogate, and the two women had bounded quickly. And although Chris and Steve have had no further contact with their surrogates after the girls were born, Chris knows that Jaime still spends time with Olivia's birth mother, Stephanie.

Jaime looks at her watch and starts a little. “Shoot, we’re gonna be late.” She takes one last gulp from her coffee and scoops Bella up from the floor. “We will talk about this this afternoon, Christian.” She states plainly, brooking no arguments. “Promise me you won’t make any major decisions until then?”

“I promise,” he insists.

Jaime kisses his cheek and goes back to the living room, rallying the kids.

“Alright guys, come on, school. Let’s go.”

Brett and Olivia jump to attention, grabbing jackets and book bags.

“Bye, Daddy!” Olivia calls loudly as she tears after Jaden.

“See you tonight, Olivia!”

Brett beams up at him. “Bye, Daddy.”

Chris gets down on one knee to kiss her. “Have a good day at school, sweetheart.”

“Later, Kane!” Jaden yells through the open front door.

“Jaden Boreanaz!” Jaime shouts as she follows the children out of the house. “How many times do I have to tell you, you do not talk to your Uncle Chris like that!”

The door slams loudly before Chris can hear his nephew’s reply.

He sighs as he begins to clean up the breakfast dishes.

He feels better for talking to Jaime, it feels more real now than it did when he was crying himself to sleep, and he thinks that now he might be able to deal with it.

But the fact remains, in the very near future, Christian Kane will be a single father.

@@@

The noises of the restaurant , the chattering of the customers, the silverware clattering against the plates, all of it is getting on Steve’s last nerve.

His head is pounding with the headache of the hung-over and all he wants is a drink to make it all go away.

He’s snapped at all the staff at least once, and he wouldn’t be surprised if his kitchen hand, Alan, told him to stick his job up his ass before his shift was over.

Steve usually handles things better than this.

The confrontation with Chris the night before had left him feeling angry and hurt. Angry at himself, mostly, but still, that hadn’t made sleep come any easier, and he’d spent the whole night on the couch, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out where everything had gone wrong.

The result had been him coming into work irritated and hung over.

It wasn’t a good look for the head chef of one of the busiest restaurants in the city.

“Order up!” Steve shouted through the pass, and even the sound of his own voice is making his head throb. He wonders briefly if it’s worth asking Alona for some painkillers.

Instead of one of the wait staff coming to collect the order for table fourteen, it’s Jensen who appears at the pass, a pissed off look on his face.

“What?” Steve snaps.

“You look like shit,” his business partner says with a roll of his eyes.

Steve opens his mouth to fire off a retort, but the kitchen door opening makes him pause, and he turns to see Chad swagger into the kitchen like he owns the place.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve glares.

Chad is their backup chef, the person they call in if they’re understaffed, or if they have a big party to cater for. Chad’s a struggling actor most of the time, so if he gets the chance to earn a few extra bucks, he’s not going to turn it down. So the fact that he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen in his chef’s whites leads Steve to believe he’s missing something.

“I called him in,” Jensen says, following Chad into the kitchen.

“What the hell for?”

“Because you look like shit,” Jensen repeats, but slower this time, like he thinks Steve missed it the first time.

“And what the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Jensen rolls his eyes again. “You’re no good to me hung-over, dude.”

“I’m always hung-over,” Steve says quietly, turning back to the steak he’s trying to cook.

“Well, normally you’re a functioning alcoholic, but apparently, you’re having a bad day or something. If you yell at one more of my wait staff, they’re gonna pick up their shit and leave me with nothing. And right now, if it’s a choice between you and them, sorry, Steve, you’re the one who’s expendable.”

Steve can feel his blood boiling, the sound of it pounding in his ears.

“Uh,” Chad says nervously before he can speak. “I’m just gonna go…over….here ‘til you guys figure this out.”

“What the fuck, Jen?” Steve snaps. “This is my fucking restaurant, you can’t tell me when I can and can’t work.”

“I’m the fucking manager of this fucking restaurant, and you’re fucking business partner, and if I decide that my staff isn’t pulling his weight you bet your ass I’ll tell them that.”

“This is bullshit, Jensen!”

“I don’t give a shit, Carlson.”

Steve sighs. Jensen has been his best friend since college, and when Steve decided to open his own restaurant, it only made sense to ask Jensen to be his partner and manage the place. It wasn’t like Steve would be capable of doing Jensen’s job. It was a partnership that has worked well over the last ten years. For the most part.

“Jen.”

“Don’t ‘Jen’ me, Steve. Just go home, sleep it off, and promise me you won’t go out tonight.”

Steve takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “I can’t stay in, Jen. I can’t be in that house with…”

“Then come over to mine. Hang with me and Jared.”

Steve nods. He knows he’s not going to win this argument; Jensen is one stubborn bastard when he wants to be, so it’s better to just agree now than to draw it out unnecessarily.

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Good.”

“Can I get to work now?” Chad calls from the dry goods store.

“Yes, order for table three,” Jensen tells him and Chad heads straight for the counter.

The guy might be a bit of a douche, but he’s got a work ethic to rival Steve’s own. He settles into work without another word.

“Get on home now, Steve,” Jensen tells him, his voice soft and measured now that Steve has agreed to his demands.

Steve just nods and heads for the back door and the staff parking lot.

He drives home in silence, nothing but the sound of the air conditioner rattling through the car and he’s thankful for the fact that, when he pulls into the driveway, Chris’s car is missing.

The house is as still as he’s come to know it as he lets himself through the front door. He spends all day at work, and almost all night at some bar or another, getting drunk or high or both, so he never sees the girls anymore, he’s never around when they are. Chris always makes sure they’re out of the way if Steve makes it home at a reasonable hour.

He feels a little sad about that, and a lot guilty, but he doesn’t really know how to fix it, or even if he wants to fix it. Everything’s changed so much in the last few years, it’s like he and Chris are both completely different people.

People who don’t fit together like they used to.

Steve lets himself into the living room, his bedroom for the last year, and crashes face first onto the couch, figuring he’d sleep for a few hours before he makes his way over to Jensen’s.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, could be minutes, could be hours, but his headache definitely isn’t any better when the front door slams loudly and his husband’s voice echoes through the house.

“Steve!”

“Fuck,” Steve groans, rolling onto his back.

Chris is suddenly standing in the doorway of the living room, looking angrier than Steve can ever remember seeing him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Chris demands. “It’s not even one in the afternoon.”

Steve groans. He really had been hoping it was later than that.

“Jensen sent me home,” he mumbles into the couch cushion as he turns on his side.

“I’m sorry, what? Jensen sent you home? Why?”

Steve throws his feet down on the floor and sits up. He’s not getting any sleep before Chris has said his peace.

“Because I’m fucking hung-over, alright? Is that what you wanna hear?”

Chris blinks. “He sent you home because you’re hung-over? The amount of alcohol you drink every night, aren’t you always hung-over?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, and you wanna know why? Because I’m never sober. I haven’t been sober for a fucking year, Chris, until I came home last night to find you waiting up for me. That sobered me up real quick. And now, I’ve got the hangover from hell and you’re standing here yelling at me!”

Steve knows he’s yelling now, too, but somehow that’s not the point.

“Oh, so this is my fault? You’re hung-over and it’s my fault?”

“Yes!”

“Well, why don’t you go out and get drunk then? Why the hell are you here, making my life miserable, if it’s my fault you feel like shit?”

“Because I promised Jensen I’d stay sober!”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Steve knows it’s the wrong thing to say.

He watches from across the room as Chris’s face floods with sadness and he can’t do anything about it.

“So, you can promise to stay sober for Jensen, but not for me? I’m your fucking husband, Steve, and I’m not worth staying sober for? Our daughters aren’t worth staying sober for? Is your life really that bad that you have to be drunk just to get through it?”

Steve wants to say ‘yes’. He wants to tell Chris that the reason he goes out every night and gets wasted on whatever substances he can get his hands on is because he hates his life, because Chris and the girls are so boring that he needs something just to make it a little bit exciting.

But the truth is nothing like that. The truth is, this is all Steve’s fault.

Chris and the girls mean everything to him, if they didn’t, he would have left a long time ago, but no matter how much he loves them, or how much he thinks he needs them, he can’t seem to stop pushing them away.

And from the look on Chris’ face as he stays silent in the face of Chris’ questions, Steve realizes that he’s finally pushed his husband too far.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Chris says sadly. “I can’t keep fighting for something you don’t seem willing to give.”

“No, Chris, that’s not-”

“Steve, you go out every night and get trashed just so that you don’t have to be here. You’d rather fuck some drunken bimbo in a parking lot instead of coming home to me.” Chris’ voice is thick, like he’s just barely holding back tears. “I’m your husband, Steve, and you haven’t so much as looked at me in almost two years.”

“Because you don’t have time!” Steve shouts, surging to his feet. “Everything is always about the girls, and I’m just relegated to the bottom of the pile.”

“You’re persecuting me for being a good father? Are you serious?”

“Chris, you can be a good father and still remember how to be a husband. But it was like, as soon as Brett was born, I wasn’t needed anymore. You had other people to worry about.”

“Are you honestly telling me you’re jealous of our daughters?” Chris looks gob-smacked.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not jealous, Chris. I love those girls, I do, but let’s stop pretending here. They’re _your_ daughters. You raised them, and they don’t feel like mine.”

“I had to raise them. You were working.”

“But you wouldn’t let me spend any time with them! Ever since Brett arrived, you’ve been acting like a single father, like I don’t exist. That’s why I pulled away, Chris.”

“So this is my fault? It’s my fault our marriage is a failure?”

Steve feels all the color drain from his face as the thought settles in the front of his mind. He doesn’t know where he thought this argument was going, but this never even occurred to him.

“I’m gonna take the girls to Oklahoma,” Chris says after what feels like too long a silence. “See my family.”

Steve stares at him in amazement. “You’ve been thinking about this? Planning this?” Chris shrugs and Steve shakes his head. “No, no way, Chris, I’m not letting you take my daughters away from me.”

“It’s not like you care, Steve.” Chris’s voice is flat, no emotion and Steve wonders if he’s just given up, if he’s too tired to fight.

Steve knows that’s his fault, too.

He opens his mouth to argue, to explain to Chris how much he loves the girls, how they mean everything to him, but Chris’s cell phone ringing cuts him off.

“Hello?” Chris answers. “Speaking…yeah…oh, right, yeah. Yes, of course. I’ll be right there. Thank you for calling.”

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks when he hears Chris sigh.

“Brett’s sick. I knew I shouldn’t have let her go to school this morning. I have to go get her.”

Steve nods. “Do you want me to do anything?” He remembers when Olivia used to get sick how she loved for him to make her noodle soup. He could do that, he wants to do that.

But when Chris looks at him with a flat, emotionless gaze, Steve knows not to expect any requests for noodle soup.

“Don’t pretend like you care all of a sudden,” he almost spits, and Steve flinches at the tone in his voice. “If you wanna do something, you could pack your shit.”

The front door slams so hard the glass rattles in the panes.

**Chapter 2**

Steve stares at the suitcase he’d sat on the bed he no longer share with Chris.

It’s still as empty as it was when he came up here an hour ago, no closer to packing now than he was then.

He doesn’t want to leave. Leaving feels like quitting and one thing Steve is not is a quitter. But it’s not like Chris is giving him a choice in the matter.

With a heavy sigh, Steve sits down on the end of the bed and tries to think about the situation, how to fix it.

Chris wants to take the girls to Oklahoma. The thought makes something in Steve’s chest clench uncomfortably. Never seeing his girls again. He knows he’s not the best father in the world, but he’d always assumed he’d have time to fix it, when the girls got older, became people instead of babies.

But Olivia is nine now. She’s already her own little person and Steve still hasn’t gotten to know her, which he can blame no one for but himself.

Everything is his fault, but if Chris doesn’t want to fix it, then what choice does he have? He might as well just leave.

Still, that mindset doesn’t make packing any easier.

The ringing of the phone startles Steve out of his contemplation, and he stares at the extension next to the bed for a few seconds before reaching over and picking it up.

“Hello?”

_“Um, is this Mr. Kane?”_ a young woman on the other end of the line asked.

“No, this is his husband,” Steve sells her, but he asks himself, _for how much longer?_

_“Oh!”_ she seems happy with that answer. _“This is Westfield Elementary school. We called a little while ago about Brett?”_

Steve frowns. “Yeah?”

_“She really is quite ill, Mr. Carlson. I was wondering if anyone was coming to pick her up?”_

“Chris left over an hour ago to get her.” It really doesn’t take an hour to get to Brett’s school. In fact, as far as Steve can remember, it takes less than ten minutes by car.

_“Well, he hasn’t arrived yet,”_ the woman says. _“I’ve tried his cellphone, but there’s no answer. Would you be able to come and get her?”_

“Um…” Steve takes a deep breath. “Um, yeah, I guess. Yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

_“Thank you, Mr. Carlson,”_ she sounds grateful, relieved, and Steve wonders just how ill Brett is. She mumbles a goodbye and Steve gives her a tight smile he knows she can’t see before he hangs up and puts the phone back in the cradle.

His head is still pounding, even more so than when he left the restaurant, but there’s nothing he can do about that now, so he just picks up his keys and heads for the car.

There’s a booster seat he’s pretty sure belonged to Olivia still strapped into the back seat, so it’s not like Steve has to worry about Brett in the car.

Ten minutes later, Steve pulls into the parking lot of Brett’s school. Looking around, he can’t see Chris’ car parked anywhere, so unless Chris got to the school and picked up Brett in under ten minutes, it doesn’t look like Chris made it.

Jogging up the front steps, Steve heads straight for the office, surprised he remembers the right direction. He spots Brett immediately, sitting on a chair with her legs swinging, looking completely miserable.

Steve sort of knows how she feels.

“Hi, honey,” he says, crouching down next to her. He presses a hand to her forehead. She’s a little hot and her skin is damp and clammy and Steve knows she must be feeling awful.

“Where’s Daddy?” she asks in a small voice.

While Steve isn’t really surprised, he is upset by the fact that she’s asking for Chris when she has a father right in front of her.

“I don’t know, Brett, but I’m gonna take you home and get you all fixed up, okay? Get you home and tucked up in bed and make you feel better. How’s that sound?”

She nods slowly and Steve rises to his full height.

“I just have to go tell someone I’m taking you home, okay? Wait right here.”

He crosses to the office and knocks on the open door until a woman looks away from the computer she’s typing on.

“Can I help you?” she asks politely and Steve recognizes her voice from the phone.

“I’m Steve Carlson, Brett’s father.”

She beams at him. “Oh, thank God. Poor little thing’s feeling so unwell. She’s making my heart hurt.”

She follows Steve back to the hallway to Brett, who’s looking even more wretched.

Steve sighs. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you home to bed.”

He bends down a little to scoop Brett into his arms, since it’s painfully obvious that she’s not going to make it to the car under her own steam.

The receptionist, or secretary or whatever, hands him Brett’s book back once he has her settled against his shoulder and he accepts it with a thankful smile.

She strokes her fingers through Brett’s soft blonde ponytail. “Take care, Brett. I hope you feel better soon.”

“Bye, Ms. Gellar,” Brett mumbles sleepily.

“Thank you for calling,” Steve says and then turns and walks back to the car.

They’re almost home when his cell phone rings, waking Brett from the light doze she’d fallen into. Steve sighs and glances at her in the rearview mirror.

“If this is for me to go pick up your sister, I’m dropping you all off at the hospital. You’ve got the plague or something else equally contagious.”

Brett just looks at him, blinking sleepily, and Steve chuckles as he pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He flips it open and frowns at the restricted number before he puts it to his ear.

“Steve Carlson.”

“Mr. Carlson,” a cool, professional voice says. “I’m calling on behalf of Cedars Sinai Hospital. Do you know a Mr. Christian Kane?”

“Yes, he’s my husband,” Steve confirms. He pauses. “Wait, hospital? What’s happened?”

“Sir, I’m afraid your, uh, husband has been involved in a road traffic accident,” the man says coolly. Steve can’t help but notice that he hasn’t introduced himself. “You’ve been listed as his emergency contact.”

“Of course I’m his emergency contact!” Steve snaps. “I’m his husband.”

“Dad?” Brett says from the back seat, all traces of sleep gone from her voice.

Steve glances at her, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“How bad is it?” he asks the nameless, faceless voice on the other end of the line.

There’s a painful pause and Steve’s brain fills in the gaps before he can even speak.

“I’d rather not give out details over the phone, sir,” he says. “Especially when I can tell you’re driving.”

“Is he alive?” Steve asks before he can think better of it.

“Dad!” Brett screams.

“Yes, he is alive, sir.” He says it like that’s the only piece of positive news he has.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Steve hangs up and takes the next right turn, away from home and towards Jaime's house.

“Dad what’s wrong?” Brett’s crying now, but Steve can’t tell if it’s because of what’s making her ill or because of his own emotional state. He wonders if it’s just another sign of how bad a father he is that he can’t tell the difference.

“Daddy’s had a little car accident, baby. I have to get to the hospital.”

“Can I go with you?”

“Not right now. I’m gonna drop you off at Jaime’s and then I’m gonna go and see him. If he’s okay, I’ll get Jaime to bring you and Olivia in to see him later, okay?”

“But I wanna see him,” Brett says through her tears.

“I know you do, but I don’t think Daddy would want you to see him all hurt and broken. He’ll be better by tonight.” Steve prays to whatever god is listening that he’s telling the truth.

“And I can see him?”

“I’ll do my very best, but sometimes doctors don’t allow little girls into hospitals because they can be very scary.”

Brett sniffles and Steve hates himself for lying to her.

He pulls up to Jaime’s house and parks at an angle across the front of the drive, not even killing the engine as he takes Brett from the back seat and bounds up the steps to the porch. Jaime’s waiting for him at the front door and he pushes Brett into her arms.

“Steve, what the hell?”

“Chris has been in a car accident. I have to get to the hospital. Brett’s been sick, so just, take care of her.” Steve talks as he rushes back to the car.

“An accident? Where? Is he alright?” Jaime calls after him.

“I don’t know. I’m on my way to find out.” He pauses before he climbs back behind the wheel. “Can you get Olivia from school? I don’t want her going home to an empty house.”

“Of course.”

He nods sharply. “I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

The drive to the hospital is a blur and before he knows what’s happening, Steve is standing in front of the main desk. He can’t even remember where he parked the car.

“Hi, can I help you?” a perky blonde behind the counter says. Her nametag reads ‘Katie.’

“Um, I got a phone call about my husband,” Steve explains, his mouth refusing to say anything more.

To her credit, Katie doesn’t even blink at the term ‘husband’, just turns to her computer. “What’s his name, sir?”

“Christian Kane.”

She types the name into the computer and nods at something that comes up on the screen. “If you’ll just take a seat, I’ll get someone to come and speak to you.” She picks up a phone, effectively dismissing him.

Steve steps back from the desk, but doesn’t sit down, he can’t, so he just paces the length of the waiting area. It’s not as busy as he would have expected it to be. When he thinks of hospitals and emergency rooms, it’s always _ER_ that pops into his head, bustling and hiving. But the waiting area is sort of calm, nurses coming out every few minutes to take the next patient through to triage.

Every time he hears an unfamiliar name, Steve’s nerves get a little more overwrought.

“Christian Kane?”

Finally. Steve spins around at the sound of his husbands name and races across the floor to the tall man in blue scrubs.

“Yes,” he gasps. He shakes his head. “I mean, no. I’m Steve Carlson. Christian Kane is my husband.”

The man – doctor, obviously – blinks at him, but he doesn’t say anything, for which Steve is thankful. He doesn’t know what he’d do if someone makes a comment about their relationship right now.

“I’m Dr. Hutton. If you’d like to follow me.”

He follows Dr. Hutton through the ER, expecting to be taken to one of the curtained off cubicles, or even the trauma rooms. Instead, he’s led to the family room, and Dr. Hutton tells him to take a seat.

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, anxiety levels spiking.

“Mr. Carlson, I’m sure you’ve been told that your husband was in a very severe car accident this afternoon.”

“Severe?”

Dr. Hutton continues like he never even heard Steve speak. “His injuries are serious and extensive, his situation is what we would describe as critical.”

Steve thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Right now, it’s his head injury we’re most concerned about.”

Steve blinks. He doesn’t think he knows how to speak anymore.

“The other car hit your husband’s SUV at the rear driver’s side. Pretty hard, I’d say, judging by the state of both of them. Mr. Kane hit his head on the roof, which cracked his skull. He has other injuries, obviously. His left shoulder was shattered, and that will require surgery, and he has some deep lacerations from the glass, but right now, all our attention is focused on the head injury.”

Steve just nods. He knows there are things he should be asking right now, but he can barely breathe let alone think straight.

“We’re getting ready to move him up to the ICU,” Dr. Hutton says when Steve doesn’t speak. “I can take you to him.”

He nods again, like a fucking puppet, he thinks, and allows Dr. Hutton to help him to his feet. His legs don’t feel all that steady right now.

They head back into the ER, and this time, Dr. Hutton leads Steve to one of the trauma rooms.

The figure lying in the hospital bed doesn’t look like Chris. There are different machines and wires attached to him, a respirator puffing quietly in the corner.

Steve lets out a sob that’s been threatening to break through since he first got the phone call from the hospital, and suddenly he’s crying, tears streaming down his face. He rushes to Chris’s side, taking hold of his hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

He looks so pale, blood and cuts all over his face, a crisp white bandage wrapped around his head, another at his shoulder.

“We’re getting ready to move him,” a nurse says softly.

Steve steps back, but his eyes stay locked on Chris as nurses and porters flutter around him, doing whatever they need to do to make his husband ready for transport.

He follows them to the elevator, silently watching as they silently wheel the bed into the oversized car. Someone hits a button and the doors slide closed and they start moving up.

Once they reach the right floor, there’s more silent following as they take Chris to where he needs to be and Steve stops outside the door to the private room.

“What happens now?” he asks when he realizes Dr. Hutton is standing next to him.

“We’ll monitor him here, try to assess the damage caused by the cracked skull,” Dr. Hutton explains. “We’ve put him into a medically induced coma for now, that’ll give his body a chance to heal itself.”

“When will he wake up?”

“We’ll give it a few days. Just be patient.” Dr. Hutton pats him on the shoulder and then takes off down the hall.

He knows there’s limited visiting time in the ICU, but Steve sticks around as long as he can, sitting next to Chris’s bed and watching the machines that are helping him breathe, the IV that’s steadily dripping through the needle in his arm and thinking about all the things he’s fucked up.

Everything is his fault, he’s not going to deny that. He’s been the one who pushed his family away, went out every night to get drunk or high, stumbling into alleys for blow jobs or hand jobs.

He’s been a bastard of epic proportions and it’s his fault his husband is lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life.

He drives around aimlessly when the hospital staff finally kick him out, and it’s late when he makes it home. There’s a car parked on the street in front of their house when he turns into the driveway and Steve figures it must be Jaime’s.

They’ve known each other at least twelve years and he feels more than a little guilty that he doesn’t know what kind of car she drives.

She’s waiting for him when he pushes open the front door and he gives her a tired smile.

“The girls are bathed and in bed,” she tells him. “Olivia wanted to wait up for you, so I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s still awake.”

He nods. “Thanks for trying.” He’s well aware of how stubborn Olivia can be, a trait she inherited from Chris.

“How is he?” Jaime asks as she backs up, allowing him into the living room.

“It’s bad,” Steve say bluntly, dropping onto the couch.

“Oh, God,” Jaime chokes. “How bad is bad?”

“Head trauma, cracked skull, lots of other broken bones, cuts and bruises. He’s unconscious right now, medically induced coma to help his body heal, according to his doctor. He’s in the ICU.”

“Oh, God,” Jaime repeats. She looks pale in the light from the table lamp and Steve doesn’t know if it’s still his place to offer comfort.

“How are you holding up?” she asks after a few minutes of quiet.

“I’m not sure I deserve to be asked that question,” Steve admits with a bitter laugh.

Jaime frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I sort of hate myself a lot right now. It took my husband nearly getting killed to open my eyes and show me how much of a bastard I’ve been. I’m a shitty father and a fucking worse husband.”

“Steve-”

Steve holds up a hand, cutting her off. “Don’t, Jaime. We both know it’s true.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Whatever I have to do,” Steve tells her firmly. “I have to look after the girls, take care of Chris when he gets out of the hospital.”

“Are you sure you can do this?”

Steve glares at her. “Look, Jaime, I know I’m not exactly husband or father of the year, but this is my family. I’m talking about doing what’s expected of me.” He hangs his head. “I’m talking about making up for the disgrace I’ve let myself become.”

Jaime takes a deep breath and nods. “Alright, well, you know I’ll help you with whatever you need.”

“Thank you. And thank you for looking after the girls today.”

Jaime moves to gather her things. “I’ll be back in the morning. To look after the girls while you’re at the hospital.” She elaborates when Steve gives her a confused look.

He blushes. “Oh, right.”

She reaches up to kiss his cheek before she makes her way to the front door, closing it softly behind her.

Suddenly tired, Steve slumps back against the couch, tempted not to move. But, as selfish as it sounds, there’s a huge bed upstairs that’s empty and Steve intends to put it to good use.

He turns off all the lights downstairs and stands in the hallway for a second, wallowing in his self-pity for one last time before he makes his way upstairs.

The bedroom he used to share with Chris, the room he hasn’t slept in for almost a year, is neat and tidy like always, the suitcase he’d been trying to pack when he got the phone call about Brett still sitting on the end of the neatly made bed. Steve takes a moment to marvel at the weirdness and awfulness of the situation before he strips down to his boxers and t-shirt and climbs beneath the sheets.

It hits him then, lying in the darkness, how completely fucked up his life could be now. And the girls’, too.

Chris could die.

His reason for existing for the last 15 years could die in a hospital bed surrounded my tubes that are breathing for him and there’s nothing Steve can even do about it.

Steve feels himself start to cry, and soon he’s heavy huge, harsh sobs that wrack his entire body.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there, tears soaking into the pillow beneath his head, before the bed dips and a tiny body presses itself against his chest.

“Don’t cry,” Olivia whispers gently. “I’ll take care of you.”

That just makes Steve cry hard and he pulls his daughter close until she’s lying almost completely on his chest. He kisses the top of her head just as someone else climbs up onto the end of the bed.

Without a word, Steve lifts his other arm and Brett crawls over him until she settles herself on the bed next to him, her small hand fisted in his t-shirt.

Surrounded by his beautiful daughters, Steve allows himself to relax enough to sleep.

@@@

Steve wakes up with a start the next morning when the front door slams closed.

“Jaden!” Dave’s voice is loud in the early morning stillness. “What have I told you about slamming doors?”

Steve doesn’t hear Jaden’s reply, he’s too busy staring at his girls.

In the night, Brett had somehow shifted until she was lying spread-eagled on his chest, her legs hanging on either side of his torso, while Olivia curled herself around his left arm, holding him tight, like she was afraid he was going to leave.

Steve’s heart breaks just a little bit more.

He nudges Olivia carefully, smiling at her cuteness as she sits up, pushing her hair out of her eyes and blinking away sleep.

“We got visitors,” he says softly, watching as she frowns. He laughs. “Come on.”

Carefully, Steve sits up, one hand on Brett’s back and the other under her butt to keep her in place until he stands up. She snuggles closer to him, pressing her face into his neck, but she doesn’t wake up.

Olivia scrambles off the bed and opens the bedroom door, heading downstairs before Steve has even rounded the bed.

“SHH!” he hears her hiss loudly. “Brett’s still asleep!”

“Why?” Jaden questions. “We’re all awake, why’s she still sleeping?”

“Because certain little girls were creeping into their dad’s bed in the middle of the night,” Steve scolds when he finally makes it to the living room.

Olivia has the grace to blush, like she knows what she did was wrong, but she smiles, too, and he knows she’s probably planning to do the same thing tonight.

Jaime and Dave are settled on the couch, Bella playing happily on Dave’s lap, so Steve crosses to the love seat, laying Brett down carefully, covering her with a blanket Olivia hands him, one he doesn’t recognize. He brushes her hair back from her face before he rounds on Chris’ best friends.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Dave’s gonna stay here with the kids while you and I go to the hospital,” Jaime says confidently, like this is something they’ve already discussed and Steve just forgot.

“Oh,” he says simply. He’s not going to try and talk her out of it, because, honestly, he’s more than grateful for the company.

“I called Jensen,” Dave says suddenly. “Told him what’s going on. He’s gonna take care of the restaurant, do whatever needs to be done, since you’re obviously not going to be there for a while.”

Steve just nods. He hasn’t even thought about the restaurant or what he was going to do about it.

“I called the school, too,” Dave continues, “let them know that the girls aren’t going to be in until next week.”

Steve can do nothing but smile gratefully.

“No school?” Olivia pipes up from where she’s sitting at the coffee table with Jaden. Her eyes are huge and round, like this is the best news she’s ever heard, but she doesn’t want to get too excited in case he changes his mind.

Steve chuckles. “Not for a few days. You’re going back on Monday though, okay?”

Olivia nods eagerly.

“No fair!” Jaden pouts. “Why does Ollie get to stay home from school and I still have to go?”

“You’re not there today, are you?” Jaime reminds him.

“No, but I bet I still have to go tomorrow.”

“Yes, because your father is not in the hospital,” Dave points out with a kind smile.

Jaden looks embarrassed and he turns to Olivia, keeping his eyes lowered. “Sorry about your daddy, Ollie.”

Olivia shrugs. “He’s gonna be okay.”

She says it like she can’t imagine any other option and Steve hopes desperately that she’s right.

“You guys want some breakfast?”

He needs something to do, something to keep his mind occupied before he has to get ready to go to the hospital.

“Sure,” Jaime says with a soft smile, like she knows exactly what he’s doing.

Steve leaves them in the living room and heads for the kitchen, but he’s not surprised when Olivia bounces after him.

“Can we have pancakes?” she asks as she climbs onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

Steve is transported back in time, to a time when it was normal for him to make breakfast while Olivia and Chris watched from the breakfast bar, Brett just an idea in their minds.

It seems like decades ago, instead of just a few short years.

“Sure,” he says, throwing a grin at her. He crosses to the cupboard, digging around inside for a few minutes before he realizes that his search is pointless.

“There’s no flour.” He’s aware he’s pouting worse than Brett, but he doesn’t understand how it can be possible for there to be no flour in his house. He’s a chef, for Christ’s sake, and flour is one of those things that a chef is required to have in his cupboard. Steve’s sure it’s a law somewhere.

He tries to figure out how the situation is even possible, then he realizes how long it’s been since he went grocery shopping with Chris and the girls. Chris isn’t a chef, even though he can cook just fine. But pancakes or any kind of baking is a little beyond his skills, so flour isn’t something he would think to buy.

All the ways he’s fucked up keep hitting him, one by one, and even though he knows he deserves to feel every single one of them, he’s not sure how much more he can take. Not when it’s taking everything he has to stop himself from running from the room or vomiting into the sink.

His head still stuck in the cupboard, Steve takes a deep, steadying breath and grabs the eggs.

“Sorry, baby,” smiles at Olivia,” no pancakes today. How about I make French toast and me and Jaime stop by the grocery store on the way home, and we can have pancakes tomorrow?”

Olivia’s eyes light up, that beaming smile she inherited from Chris slashing across her face as she nods happily at him.

Steve doesn’t know if she’s nodding at the prospect of pancakes or at Steve making breakfast at all.

He decides it’ll hurt too much to know.

@@@

The first freak out happens after only four days.

“I can’t do this,” Steve says as he paces the length of the living room, scraping his fingers through his long blonde hair.

Jensen, Jensen’s boyfriend, Jared, and Chad are all sitting on the couch, watching him with varying expressions.

Jensen looks worried, Jared looks confused, and Chad just looks like this the funniest shit he’s seen all week.

Steve isn’t exactly sure why Chad is currently occupying his couch; in fact, he’s not really sure why any of the three of them are parked in his living room. They showed up an hour ago, Chad carrying a six pack and telling him it was time to get his party on.

Steve had lost his shit right about then, and it had only gotten worse since.

“Can’t do what?” Jensen asks with seemingly infinite patience. It’s not the first time he’s asked that question since he sat down.

“I can’t raise these girls,” Steve repeats. “Christ, if Chris doesn’t wake up, then this is it, this is all they have. A half-drunk father who doesn’t know how to take care of his own children.”

“You know how to take care of them,” Jared tells him calmly.

Steve whirls to face him. “Oh, yeah? You think so? Did you know that Olivia is allergic to blueberries? ‘Cause I sure as hell didn’t, not until I tried to put them in her pancakes this morning. What if I’d been making smoothies, huh? What if I’d just blended the blueberries in with all the other fruit and just given it to her? I could have killed her, Jared. What sort of a father does that?”

“Steve, you have to calm down,” Jensen tells him, climbing to his feet. “So you made one little mistake, something like that could have easily happened to Chris. This is not your fault.”

“Bet he knew she’s allergic to blueberries,” Steve pouts sullenly.

“Yes, because whether you like it or not, Steve, Chris is their fulltime parent.”

“While I fucking pushed them away until they barely knew I existed.”

“That’s not true,” Jared says quietly. “Brett adores you.”

Steve knows that, from Jared’s perspective, he’s telling the truth. They’d arrived at the house just as Steve was getting Olivia and Brett ready for bed. Olivia had gone willingly, which in itself made Steve suspicious, but Brett had whined, crying and clinging to him, begging for one more story, one more song, a glass of water, anything that would make Steve stay with her just a little longer.

None of it really matters anyway. Steve’s fully aware that when he gets to bed, after whatever time he makes these guys leave, he won’t be there longer than twenty minutes before he hears the patter of tiny feet over the floor boards and first Olivia and then Brett will crawl in next to him and instantly fall asleep. It’s been the same for the past three nights, and while Steve doesn’t understand it, he’s not going to try to convince them to sleep in their own beds. Not until Chris is out of the woods.

“Steve, you have to trust yourself,” Jensen tells him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Although right now, thoughts of his daughters as they are now are much better than thoughts of how much he’s going to screw them up for the rest of their lives.

“Trust myself,” he snorts. “I can’t even trust myself to feed them never mind raise them.”

Jensen throws his hands in the air. “Why are you so damn sure that you’re gonna do something wrong?”

Jared tugs on the end of Jensen’s shirt. “Keep your fucking voice down. You’ll wake them.”

Steve doesn’t think it would be appropriate to tell them that the girls probably aren’t asleep and won’t be until they’re safely tucked up in Steve’s bed with him.

“Why?” Jensen repeats, his voice lower and Steve just shakes his head.

“I fucked up my marriage, didn’t I? Why are you so sure I won’t do the same thing to the girls?”

“Steve, it takes two people to let a marriage fail. Chris is as much to blame for that as you are. But the girls are different. You know how to be a father, Steve, you did it with Olivia and you did it with Brett in the beginning. You are the only one who’s sure you’re going to fail.”

Jared nods. “Yeah, even Jaime says you’re doing great, and she pretty much hated you on principle.”

Steve blushes. He knows that Jared has been friends with Jaime since college; in fact it was through Jaime that Jared and Jensen met. But he’d almost forgotten how close they were, and he’s a little embarrassed by the fact that, clearly, Chris’ friends are talking about him behind his back, and it’s obvious that Jared senses his discomfort.

He waves a hand. “Relax, she’s pretty much stopped bitching about you over the last few days. I don’t know what changed, but it was like she suddenly didn’t want me knowing what was going on.”

Steve nods. If Chris was talking to Jaime about leaving, going back to Oklahoma, then of course Jaime would have kept that to herself. No matter how long Jaime and Jared have been friends, Jared’s loyalties lie with Jensen, who will side with Steve no matter what.

Sometimes the politics of their friends confuses the hell out of him.

Steve chews on his lower lip, trying desperately not to think about what he might have done if Chris really did leave, and turns the topic back to his inability to raise his daughters.

“Maybe I should call my mom. She could come down here for a while, help me out. It’s not fair of me to rely on Jaime and Dave all the time.”

Jensen shrugs. “Alright, if that’s what you think is best. But I’m telling you, you’ll end up killing her after three days.”

“Why would I do that?” Really, Steve loves his mom, in moderation, but if she spends are day at home or with the girls while Steve’s at work, then all he has to worry about is the evenings before she goes to bed.

“That’s what we came over here to tell you about,” Jensen says with a sheepish look on his face.

Oh, yeah, he’d forgotten about their reason for being in his house. Or, lack of thus far.

“I’ve decided, for the good of the restaurant,” Jensen goes on, “that it would be better if you were to take a leave of absence until Chris gets back on his feet.”

Steve gawps at him. “You decided? Without even talking to me about it?”

Jensen sighs. “Look, Steve, the fact of the matter is that, right now, you’re all those two little girls have, and if you go and fuck up what you’ve managed to build over the last three days by bringing your mom in, they’re gonna be even more upset by the whole thing than they already are. Right now, things are good for you, and for them. When Chris wakes up, who knows what sort of a state he’ll be in.”

Steve would be thankful that Jensen said ‘ _when_ Chris wakes up’ rather than ‘ _if_ Chris wakes up’ but he’s honestly not sure where his own feelings lie on that subject at the moment, so he thinks it’s best that he not look at it too closely.

“Chris will need you then, Steve,” Jared points out, always the calmer of the two. “Whether he likes it or not, right now, you’re all he has.”

“Jared’s right,” Jensen agrees. “Chris parents aren’t in any fit state to fly up here to look after him and the girls. Jaime has her own family to look after, so that pretty much leaves you.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Awesome, I’m a last resort, that’s just great.”

“Like it or not, it is what it is,” Jensen smiles. “Besides, maybe when you man up and remind Chris that you are actually a part of this family and not the lodger who sleeps in the living room, you might be able to start repairing your relationship. I know that’s what you want.”

It is what Steve wants. Except for Chris to wake up sooner rather than later, there’s nothing he wants more, and he’s a little in awe of that fact that Jensen’s so aware of that.

Steve scrapes his hair back and finally allows himself to drop into an armchair, suddenly exhausted and desperate for the three men on his couch to go home. He never knew how draining it could be looking after two children under ten.

Speaking of the three men on his couch, Steve narrows his eyes at Chad, who has been silent ever since he walked through the door, only the occasional sound him drinking his beer to remind everyone that the wannabe actor was still in the room.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know my family matters were any concern of yours.”

Chad blinks owlishly at him, like he has no idea why he’s in the room.

“Oh,” Jensen says loudly, like he’s just noticed Chad was there. “I’ve asked Chad to take over your shifts at the restaurant. I brought him tonight so that you two could talk about what you want to do.”

Steve waves a hand at the…chef, apparently. He lays his head back against the chair and closes his eyes. “Talk to Brock.” Brock Kelly is the evening chef, catering to the late dining crowd, while Steve stuck with breakfasts, lunches and early dinners. The two of them worked well together, combining most of their dishes into a well thought out, eclectic menu. And now it’s Chad’s turn to try to recreate what Steve and Brock have built up over the last three years, ever since the younger chef left culinary school with top honors.

Steve doesn’t envy him the task. He knows how long it took him and Brock to work out their system, and he wonders how much the menu will have to change to compensate for another chef.

Chad is good at what he does, no question, but no two chefs are alike, and something at _Dynamite_ will have to be altered to deal with that.

“We should head out,” Jared says suddenly, rising to his full height. He never fails to make Steve feel short.

Steve blinks. “Huh?”

“Man, you’re practically falling asleep in that chair,” Jared chuckles. “We should go and let you get some sleep.”

Jensen and Chad stand, too, and Steve can’t help but grin at the fact that Chad had been in his house for more than an hour and never spoke a word. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard the blonde haired man be so quiet.

“I’ll be glad when the girls go back to school next week. Maybe then I won’t have to run around after them all day.”

Steve had decided earlier in the day that Olivia and Brett would go back to school on Monday. He isn’t doing anyone any favors by keeping them at home, especially since the hospital won’t let them into see Chris. Keeping them at school, where they’ll at least be occupied, is something Steve doesn’t see a problem with.

Unless of course Monday morning comes and he can’t get them out of bed.

Steve walks the three of them to the door, Chad carrying the remaining three bottles of the six-pack he’d brought with him. It sort of amazes Steve that he hasn’t drank all six bottles, but he doesn’t know if he’s basing that on a misconception of Chad, or on his own drinking habits, and decides he doesn’t want to find out.

“Hey, Chad,” he calls when Chad is already standing in the driveway.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Steve says, and he has to force the words out of his mouth, even though he knows Chad deserves to hear what he has to say. “Thank you for covering my ass at the restaurant. I know this isn’t what you want out of your life, but still, thank you. It means a lot.”

Chad shrugs. “I’m getting a steady pay check, and I don’t have to drive all across L.A. to whatever bullshit audition my agent’s sent me to. Trust me when I say it doesn’t completely suck.” His eyes sparkle in the streetlights. “In fact, dude, you might have a hard time getting rid of me once you’re ready to come back to work.”

“Asshole,” Steve bites with a mock glare. “Whether I work there or not, I’m still your boss, you know.”

Chad salutes him and climbs into the back of Jensen’s truck.

Jared waves one hand out the window while Jensen flashes his headlights and Steve waves them goodbye.

He stands on the porch for a while, taking in the stillness of the neighborhood, one of the things that drew him and Chris to this part of the city in the first place.

He thinks about what he said to Chad, but the fact of the matter is, Chad is sort of right.

Steve doesn’t need to work at the restaurant. The place brings in more than enough of a profit that he and Jensen can leave the day to day running of the place to someone else, and the kitchen to Chad or Brock.

And suddenly, Steve realizes that he has a lot more to figure out about his life than just his relationship with Chris and the girls.

@@@

It goes on for another week.

Chris stays stubbornly asleep in his hospital bed, although he’s no longer has machines breathing for him, while Steve carries on at home, trying to make things as normal for the girls as possible.

He’s had surgeries on his head to reduce the swelling and whatever else the doctors thought they needed to do for a head injury, but they’d left his shoulder alone. No point operating on that until they know Chris is going to be okay.

Steve spends most of his days at the hospital. He takes the girls to school, then sits by Chris’ bed, cursing and spitting at him, telling him to wake the fuck up already because his girls need him.

Steve needs him.

Then Steve heads home to make dinner for the girls and spend some time with them, helping with homework before bed, only to start the whole process again the next day.

The girls still crawl into his bed in the middle of the night and Steve knows he’s going to have to break them of the habit before Chris comes home, if for no other reason than he’ll be back to sleeping on the couch when Chris is back in the house. And without them there, the bed just seems to make him lonely anyway.

But still, he makes it work, even if it is a fucking awful situation. The girls have a routine that seems to make them happy and Steve has learnt to deal with what life has handed to him and they do okay for the most part.

And then Chris wakes up.

**Chapter 3**

Chris blinks at the ceiling. He thinks it’s very white. Too white maybe, it makes his head hurt.

The people that bustle in and out of the room are talking about head trauma and coma, busted shoulder, surgery, other broken bones and injuries, but Chris tunes them all out as best he can.

He’s too busy trying to figure out what the fuck happened.

The last thing he remembers is going to that bar with Dave, one they’d never been to before, and after that, it’s a total blank.

Had they gotten into a car accident on the way home? One of the doctors mentioned something about a car crash and if it was true, why couldn’t he remember? Chris was DD, he was supposed to be behind the wheel. Did that mean it was his fault? Was Dave alright?

Chris tries to tell the doctors or the nurses that he has no memory of what happened but they’re all too busy checking the machines he’s hooked up to and the fluid being pumping into him through the needle in his arm. One of the doctors is telling a nurse to call the OR to schedule the surgery to fix Chris’ shoulder and Chris has had enough of being ignored.

“Can someone please tell me what happened?” he asks loudly.

A man in a white coat and blue scrubs introduces himself as Dr. Hutton and steps up the side of Chris’s bed. “You were in a car accident, Mr. Kane.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Colombo, but I think I figured that much out for myself. What I don’t know is how. Or when, for that matter.”

“You’ve been unconscious for just over a week now, Mr. Kane,” Dr. Hutton tells him and Chris feels his stomach roll.

What about his classes? God, his finals were supposed to start in two days – well, two days after the night at the bar. Which meant they’d started already and he’d missed them because he was in a fucking coma. Now he was gonna flunk out of college and go home with his tail between his legs, and have to listen to his daddy tell him he never should have gone to California in the first place.

He must have been talking out loud, because Dr. Hutton frowns down at him.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Mr. Kane?”

Chris shrugs and winces at the pain in his shoulder. “Um, I was at a bar with my buddy, Dave. That’s it. I wasn’t drinking, I swear I was sober.”

Never mind that he wasn’t twenty-one until the summer. He doesn’t want the doctor calling the cops for his underage drinking.

“You were at a bar in the middle of the afternoon?”

Chris blinks. “What? No, it was gone eleven when we got to the bar.” Chris remembers, because he was bitching at Dave for making him drive so far just to get a beer. Suddenly, he can feel all the color drain from his face. “Oh, god, Dave. I was with my friend, David Boreanaz. Is he alright?”

“Mr. Kane, you were alone in your car,” Dr. Hutton explains almost gently. “You were hit by a drunk driver, in the middle of the afternoon.”

Chris shakes his head. “No, we were at the bar. I remember being at the bar.”

“You were on your way to pick up your youngest daughter from school, by all accounts. You never made it there.”

It’s like all the air had suddenly been sucked out of Chris’ lungs and he can’t breathe.

Then he laughs, he laughs so hard and so long that he jars his injured shoulder and he yelps in pain.

“I don’t have a damn daughter, man,” he says once he’s got his breathing under control, “youngest or otherwise. I’m twenty years old; I’m still in college, for fuck’s sake. I’m too young to have a kid.”

A weird look passes over Dr. Hutton’s face and he clears his throat. “Mr. Kane, can you tell me what year it is?”

“1995,” Chris answers without pause.

“And the President?”

“Bill Clinton.”

“I see.” Dr. Hutton rubs at his temple and Chris frowns.

He’s missing something huge and important, but before he can ask what it is, his door bursts open and a vaguely familiar guy stumbles into the room, out of breath and looking panicked.

“Chris!” he shouts, his eyes locked on Chris like he’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Dr. Hutton steps forward quickly. “Mr. Carlson, if I could speak with you outside for a moment?”

“Carlson?” Chris repeats, another piece of information from that night falling into place. “Hey, you’re the singer from the bar. I got your number. What are you doing here?”

Really, the guy is fucking hot, and Chris wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little better, but that wouldn’t explain why he had come all the way to the hospital to see a guy he didn’t even know, even if Chris was planning on calling him.

Even as Chris watches, a look of horror flows across the guy’s face and he looks to Dr. Hutton, as if begging.

“Outside, Mr. Carlson, please.”

Steve nods and turns to head back to the hallway.

“The girls want to see him,” Chris hears the guy, Carlson, tell the doctor, but the door slams closed before Chris can catch the doctor’s reply.

He swallows hard and falls back against the pillows in the hospital bed, not really understanding why he suddenly felt like he’d just monumentally fucked up.

@@@

“The girls want to see him,” Steve says to the doctor in a surprisingly calm voice, but his mind is spinning.

Chris recognized him as the singer in the bar where they first met fifteen years ago. It’s like his memories are gone.

“I don’t think that’s wise right now, Mr. Carlson,” Dr. Hutton advices.

“Why?” Steve knows why, he just doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“I think your husband might be suffering some sort of amnesia.”

Steve feels his knees grow weak and suddenly wants to sit down. “Amnesia.” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to repeat the word.

Dr. Hutton nods. “He appears to have lost the last fifteen years, as far as I can tell, although I was only speaking to him for a few minutes.”

Steve feels sick. Fifteen years, the entire length of their relationship.

“I’m going to schedule an MRI and a CT scan,” the doctor continues when Steve stays quiet. “We can assess how sever the damage is and try to figure out how best to proceed from here.” He sighs and gives Steve a sympathetic smile. “Most of the time, something like this is temporary, his memories could come back at any time. Maybe slowly, maybe all at once, like it was all some sort of bad dream. We can just never be sure with head injuries.”

Steve just nods dumbly. “The girls want to see him,” he says again. They’d begged and pleaded so much, tears in their eyes, that Steve could do nothing but say ‘yes’ and bundle them into the car.

Now he wishes he’d left them at home. He’s grateful Jaime came with him, but he’s not sure how he’s going to explain this to them when he doesn’t really understand it all himself.

Dr. Hutton takes a deep breath. “Mr. Carlson, given the circumstances, I don’t really think that’s wise.”

“Please,” Steve begs. “I’ll explain it to them; I won’t tell Chris they’re his kids. Our kids. They just want to make sure that their daddy’s going to be okay.”

Dr. Hutton stares at him in silence for a few painful minutes until finally he relents, nodding his head. “Okay, but just a few minutes. I don’t want him upset. He’s bound to be confused enough right now.”

“Thank you,” Steve says honestly, and he heads back to where he left Jaime and the girls in the waiting area.

The girls bounce off the seats as soon as they spot him, racing towards him with their arms outstretched.

“Dad!” Olivia yells, throwing herself at Steve’s legs. “Is Daddy okay? Can we see him now?”

Brett tugs at the hem of his Metallica t-shirt and Steve bends down to scoop her into his arms, reaching for Olivia’s hand as he guides them both back to their chairs and Jaime.

He waits until they’re sitting before crouching down in front of them, taking their hands in his.

“Steve,” Jaime whispers, her voice cracking and Steve smiles at her, letting her know that everything is okay. Sort of.

He clears his throat and looks at Brett and Olivia. “Okay, so. You know how Daddy was in a very bad car crash, right?” They nod their heads. “Well, he hit his head very, very hard, and it’s messed up some things in his brain.”

“What kind of things?” Brett asks with a pout.

“His memories, baby.”

Jaime gasps and Steve spares her a look.

“He doesn’t remember us,” Olivia says, her voice so much stronger than Steve gave her credit for. “Does he?”

“No, sweetheart, he doesn’t. He doesn’t even remember me. In fact he doesn’t remember anyone but Uncle Dave.”

Olivia frowns. “Why Uncle Dave?”

“Because Daddy has known Uncle Dave for a very, very long time. Longer than he’s known me. Uncle Dave was there the night Daddy and I met.”

Steve reaches out and cups his daughter’s cheeks in his hands and kisses their foreheads. “Right now, we just have to show him that you are two beautiful little girls, and then later, we can explain everything to him.”

“Maybe he’ll remember me tomorrow?” Brett asks hopefully, her lower lip trembling slightly.

Steve shakes his head sadly. “Not tomorrow, baby, no. The doctors don’t know if he’ll ever remember. But we’re gonna show him how much we love him. The doctors are gonna do a whole lot of tests and we’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

Olivia nods, looking almost determined, like she knows it’s only a matter of time until her daddy remembers who she is. “Can we see him?”

“Just for a few minutes, okay? Daddy’s a little confused right now, and we don’t want to upset him, do we?”

Both girls shake their heads and Steve helps them off the chairs, and Jaime gets to her feet as well. She gives Steve a curious look and he sighs.

“You think this is a bad idea?”

She shrugs. “The girls need to know he’s alright, physically at least. But, Steve, if he’s lost his memory, doesn’t know who they are, what’s it gonna do to him when you shove two little girls in his face?”

“I’ll tell him they’re mine, if it comes to that. He recognizes me as that guy he met in the bar.”

Jaime gives him a considering look, and Steve squirms a little under her gaze, unsure why he’s suddenly so deserving of her complete attention.

“Steve,” she says finally, her voice deceptively calm, “does Christian’s memory end at that night in the bar?”

Steve’s shoulders slump. “I think so. He said I was the singer from the bar. When we met at the bar, he called me the next day. We were dating by the end of the week. If he doesn’t recognize me as anyone more than the singer from the bar, then yeah, I think his memory ends that night.”

Tears spring to Jaime’s eyes and she takes a step away. “That’s your entire relationship. He’s wiped your entire relationship from his memory.”

“The crash did,” Steve insists almost forcefully.

Jaime barks a laugh. “He wanted to leave, Steve. He wanted to start over. What if this is his subconscious way of doing that?”

Steve shakes his head. “Without the girls?” he waves a hand at Brett and Olivia, waiting patiently at his side. “He might want to forget about me, but do you honestly think he would give up on the girls, subconsciously or not?”

Jaime huffs a breath. “He would never leave them behind,” she admits grudgingly. “He would have taken them with him.”

“He would have tried.”

“You honestly would have fought him for them? Dragged him through the courts like that? Hell, separated them?”

Steve looks away from her and down at the girls, at Brett, who has his blood running through her veins, and tries to imagine what would have happened that day of the crash, if the crash had never happened. Would he have fought for the girls, for access to them, if Chris had decided their marriage was over? He honestly has no idea, but right now, standing in the middle of a hospital waiting room, two sets of blue eyes looking up at him with expectation, Steve can’t imagine his life without them and he tell Jaime as much.

“I will fight for them, if it comes to that. I won’t lose them.”

There’s something different in Jaime’s eyes now, not sadness or outrage, but something Steve can’t identify and it makes him a little nervous when a crooked smile pulls at her lips.

“You are not the man I thought you were, Steve Carlson.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I think.”

Steve turns away from her then, not wanting to hear any more profound statements or theories on what she thinks is going on in Chris’ head. He reaches down and takes hold of Brett and Olivia’s hands and leads them down the hall to Chris’ room.

He’s sitting up against the pillows, staring out the window when Steve pushes the door open, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat a little, because, despite the cuts and bruises and bandages, his husband looks so beautiful at that moment that it makes something in Steve’s chest ache.

“Hey,” Chris says when he spots him. He opens his mouth to say something else but he snaps it closed when his eyes land on Brett and Olivia and he frowns. “What’s going on?”

Steve smiles tightly. “Chris, this is Brett and Olivia.” The girls wave weakly.

“You’ve got kids?” There’s a disgusted tone to Chris’ voice, and Steve doesn’t know if it’s because he’s upset at Steve for keeping something from him, or the idea that Steve might have kids.

He nods tiredly. “Yeah, I do. They just wanted to make sure you were okay. They were worried.”

Chris narrows his eyes. “They wanted to know about someone they’ve never even met?”

Brett make a strangled sort of noise in the back of her throat and Steve decides that they’ve had enough. “Come on, girls, that’s enough for now. Maybe you can come back and see…see Chris in a couple days.”

Olivia sniffles and Steve thinks that this was a really bad idea.

Jaime, who had been silent up until that point, steps forward from where she was leaning against the doorjamb. “I’ll take them home.”

Steve smiles gratefully. “I think this was a little much for them.”

“I think you’re right about that.” She gives him an understanding smile. “You want me to come back and get you later?”

Steve sighs, remembering that they’d driven to the hospital in Jaime’s car as soon as the doctor had called to tell them Chris was awake, and now he would be stranded.

Finally, he shakes his head. “No, I’ll just call a cab. I can’t imagine I’ll be here for much longer anyway. He doesn’t seem like he wants to spend much time with me.”

Jaime reaches out and squeezes his shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll call Dave, have him bring Jaden and Bella over, and I’ll make us all some dinner. Don’t be too long.”

“Thanks, Jaime,” he tells her, and he means so much more than the dinner.

Steve kisses his daughters goodbye and watches as Jaime leads them down the hallway until they turn the corner out of sight before he steps back into Chris’ room and closes the door behind him.

“You called your daughter ‘Brett’?” Chris practically spits the word.

Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes and doesn’t mention that it was Chris who had his heart set on that name from the moment the idea of another child was brought up. “Yeah, I did. We wanted to be original.”

Chris snorts. “Well, it’s that alright.”

Steve rounds the bottom of the bed and sits down in the same chair he’s been sat in every day since Chris was first moved to this room, and the atmosphere is just like it was then. Chris is silent in the bed, staring at the fingernails of his right hand, and Steve has absolutely no idea what to say. It’s not like he can tell Chris how well Olivia and Brett are doing in school, his husband has no idea who they are, and everything else he wants to say is out, too, because Chris has no memory of their life together.

It’s an almost impossible situation.

“So, was that your wife?” Chris asks just as Steve’s about to run out of patience and follow Jaime home. “You could have told me you were married, man.”

It takes a moment for Steve to figure out the tone in Chris’ voice – it’s been so long since Chris was jealous of anything, never mind anything that has to do with Steve, and he can’t help the laugh that erupts from his mouth.

“No, man, that’s Dave’s wife.”

He speaks before he thinks and cringes when the words hang in the air.

“Dave’s wife?” Chris repeats. “Are you talking about my friend Dave? He ain’t married, man. And I’m a little pissed that someone’s been telling you that he is.”

Steve scrapes his hands through his hair. He knows he should stay quiet, it’s not up to him to decide when Chris should be filled in on the life his brain has erased, but the fact that Chris’ brain is only missing the parts of Chris’ life that included Steve and nothing from before that, is making Steve feel more than a little upset, and he suddenly can’t help the words that are rolling off his tongue.

“Dave and Jaime have been married for almost ten years, you were best man at their wedding and they have two kids.” He says it in a rush, as if he has to get the words out as fast as possible before Dr. Hutton or one of the nurses comes in and stops him.

Chris gawps. “What the fuck, man? Where do you get off saying shit like this?”

“Chris, look at me,” Steve insists. “Don’t I look a little different than I did when we met in that bar?” Steve knows – even though he doesn’t like to admit it most days – that he’s changed a lot since he and Chris first met. His hair is longer, he’s put on some weight, and he’s just all around aged fifteen years like he expected to.

“Yeah,” Chris agrees, drawing the word out as he looks Steve over from head to toe. “Now that you mention it, you look a lot older than I thought you were.”

“Awesome, Chris, thanks for that.” Steve rolls his eyes and sighs. “Chris, you and I met fifteen years ago.”

“So, what, I met you when I was five?”

“No, you were twenty; I had just turned twenty-two.”

Chris huffs in exasperation. “You’re not making any sense, man.”

“You have amnesia, Chris. You’ve lost the last fifteen years of your life. You’ve lost all memory of your life with me.”

Chris blinks. “My life with you?”

“I’m your fucking husband, Chris! I’m your husband, and those little girls I came in with are your daughters, and you don’t even remember us!”

Steve is getting angry, he can almost feel his blood boiling, but he can’t seem to help himself. Jaime’s words are ringing in his ears, the idea that this is what Chris wanted, to forget every part of his life with Steve, and it almost too much for him to take. He wants to cry, to scream out the sorrow of losing Chris, but breaking down in front of this…stranger, for want of a better word, just isn’t something he can bring himself to do.

So he gets angry instead, blaming Chris for the whole thing, even though deep down, Steve knows that none of this is his husband’s fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s Steve himself, for upsetting Chris so much that day of the crash that he probably wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have been. Maybe if he’d been calmer, he would have been able to see the drunk driver coming, and Chris would be alright now.

And Steve would have moved out and Chris would be getting ready to move the girls to Oklahoma, and Steve suddenly doesn’t feel so much hatred towards the man who plowed into his husband’s car.

He’d rather have Chris here, even with no memory, than not have him or the girls at all.

“Husband?!” Chris yells at him, looking at Steve like he’s suddenly grown a second head. “What a load of fucking shit! How did the doctors even let you in here? You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna believe this shit.”

Steve nods and stands up. “I’ll come back when the doctors tell you what’s going on. You can apologize for calling me crazy then.”

Chris reaches behind him for a pillow and throws it at Steve’s head. “Get the fuck out of here before I call security, you fucking psycho!”

Chris is still screaming when Steve leaves the room.

@@@

It’s almost two hours after Steve leaves before the doctor who spoke to him earlier comes back to his room, and Chris spends practically the whole time trying to remember the guy’s name.

He feels a little ashamed for not knowing it right away, but then he remembers the shit the guy was spilling, about Chris being his husband and the kids being his daughters and he suddenly doesn’t feel so guilty anymore.

Seriously, Chris thinks he needs to spend a little bit more time figuring out if the guys he’s attracted to are fucking psychos before he asks for their number. This is the third since he came out here for college. It’s getting to be a little ridiculous.

Dr. Hutton – at least Chris thinks that’s his name – takes the seat Steve had previously occupied, and looks down at a clipboard in his hands. Chris can only assume that it’s his medical notes, records of what’s been done to him since he was brought into the hospital, however long ago that was. He’s having trouble working that out.

“Mr. Kane, we’re going to run a few tests, MRI, CT Scan, find out what’s going on in that head of yours,” Dr. Hutton starts. He looks up then, around the room, like he’s searching for someone. “Did your husband leave already? I was really hoping to talk to you both at the same time, save me going over this all twice.”

“My-” Chris cuts himself off, practically chokes on his own tongue. “Seriously, the guy conned you into believing that bullshit story? Do I look old enough to have been married for fucking fifteen years? Or however long the guy said it was.”

Dr. Hutton makes some sort of humming noise and looks back down at the clipboard. “I really thought he would have explained it better. Mostly, we try to be the ones to explain to the patient that they’re experiencing some sort of amnesia, but most of the time, the patient’s family can’t help telling them. The patient usually reacts better when they hear it from a loved one rather than a doctor they don’t know, but I see this isn’t the case here.”

Chris blinks, swallows hard. “He was telling the truth?”

Dr. Hutton rests the clip board on his thighs and gives Chris a look his can’t identify. “Can I ask you why you didn’t believe him? You think the security at this hospital is so lax that we’d let someone convince us that they’re the husband of a patient without checking to make sure?”

Chris shrugs. When it’s all laid out like that, it does sound kind of ridiculous.

“We’re in California. It’s not even legal for two guys to get married here.” Chris pauses, his eyes growing wide. “We are still in California, right?” With the way his mind is apparently broken, he could be in anywhere in the US.

Dr. Hutton lets out a short laugh. “Yes, Mr. Kane, we’re in California. You’re at Cedars Sinai.”

“So, apparently I stuck around after college. Wonder how my mama feels about that?”

“How about we talk about her later and we talk about the very serious car accident you were in now?” Dr. Hutton suggests and Chris waves a hand at him, signaling for him to continue. “We’ve had to perform some surgeries on your brain, to reduce the swelling. You’ve been in a coma for the last five days, and I will admit, Mr. Kane, there was genuine concern that you wouldn’t wake up.”

“And yet, here I am,” Chris snarks. He didn’t like the idea of being apparently so close to death. It made something sharp curl in his stomach.

“Yes, here you are, and like I said, I’d like to do some tests, make sure there was no permanent damage done by the crash.” Hutton points to his left shoulder, wrapped up tightly and held in place with by a sling. “Now that you’re awake, as soon as we find out everything else is okay, we’ll schedule the surgery to fix that shoulder.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“The other car hit yours on the drivers’ side, so that’s where most of your injuries are located. Your shoulder was completely shattered in the crash, the socket pretty much pulverized.”

“Wow,” Chris breathes, impressed despite himself. “That’s gonna be a bitch to heal.”

Dr. Hutton laughs. “Yeah, it will take some intense physical therapy, so I hope you’re looking forward to that.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Awesome.” He shifts in the bed a little, uncomfortable from being in the same position for so long, the cast on his left leg heavy. “So tell me, Doc, how long am I likely to be here?”

Dr. Hutton sighs. “Well, we’ll have to monitor that head injury for a little while, and that shoulder’s going to need some attention before we even think of letting you out of here. At a rough estimate, I’d say a week or two give or take a week.”

Two weeks, stuck in a hospital bed, being surround night and day by well-meaning doctors and nurses and candy stripers and orderlies and whoever the fuck else was gonna come into his room at every hour of the goddamn day. It’s more than Chris thinks he can take.

Dr. Hutton gets to his feet. “I’ll let you get some rest, it’s been a bit of a day for you.” He pauses at the doorway. “This isn’t going to be an easy ride, Mr. Kane; you’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of you. You might be grateful to have a loving husband there to support you.”

Chris thumps his head back into the pillow and tries very, very hard not to think about the way he spoke to Steve when he’d thought he was a raging psycho.

It doesn’t really work.

@@@

Steve lets Chris stew for two days before he goes back to the hospital to see his husband, only to find out Chris is in the middle of the surgery he needs to repair his shattered shoulder. So it’s actually three days later when Steve gets to see him and finds amusement in the fact that Chris blushes scarlet as soon as he sees he walk through the door.

“Hey,” he mumbles, his head down, fingers worry at the blanket on the bed.

“Hey, yourself,” Steve replies, sitting on the end of the bed this time instead of the chair.

Chris squirms in the bed. “I, uh, I guess I owe you an apology.”

Steve shrugs. “Do you?”

“Dr. Hutton says you’re my husband. The nurses and candy-stripers have been going on and on about you being here every day since I was brought in, about how sweet it was that you were so worried about me.”

“Well, like you said, I’m your husband; you’re the father of my children. I think I have a right to be concerned about you.” Steve chuckles. “Concerned,” he repeats. “That’s not even close to how I was feeling.”

Chris looks up through his lashes. “No?”

“Seeing you laying in that bed, out cold, no idea when you’d wake up. _If_ you’d wake up. I was scared out of my mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris says quietly, averting his gaze again, and Steve sighs and waves his hand.

“Let’s just forget about it, start over, yeah?” His husband nods gratefully and Steve smiles. “So, the doctor said your tests all came back clear, and the surgery went well. That’s good news, right?”

Chris snorts. “Yeah, if you wanna call me not being able to remember anything about my life past the age of twenty good news, then yeah, it’s fucking great. I found out yesterday that I’m fucking thirty-five years old, Steve. It’s taking everything I have not to freak out about that. I keep expecting to wake up in my fucking dorm room and finding out this was all some stupid, fucked up dream caused by Dave spiking my drinks again.”

Steve can’t help the flash of hurt that rips through him at Chris’ words, nor can he keep it off his face apparently, because one look at him and Chris’ face falls, sadness and guilt filling his eyes.

“Shit, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, I mean, I know you didn’t, but I can’t possibly know what you’re going through right now, so it’s not like I can judge for not remembering me or the girls.”

Chris smiles a little at the mention of their daughters and he leans forward slightly. “So, um, how does that work exactly? The girls, I mean. I haven’t, like, forgotten some weird medical advancement that allowed men to get pregnant, did I?”

Steve barks out a laugh. The humor is so like Chris, one of the things that made Steve fall in love with him in the first place, and when he sees the satisfied look on Chris’ face, Steve knows he made the joke on purpose.

“No, no, nothing like that, man. I promise you don’t have stretch marks.” It’s Chris’ turn to laugh and Steve takes a moment to bask in the sound, so unfamiliar to him now, before he continues. “The girls were actually born through surrogates. Technically speaking, Olivia is yours, biologically, and Brett is mine. But we never make that distinction. They’re our daughters, we’re their fathers. That’s all there is to it.”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “So, like, we had to jerk off into a cup or something, then hand it over to some chick with a turkey baster?”

“It was a little bit more technical than that, but yeah, pretty much.” Steve shrugs. “But, hey, we made it fun.”

Chris flushes a deep shade of red and Steve realizes what he’s just said. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Chris shakes his head. “No, I, um…that’s…that’s okay. I mean, we’re married, right? Or as close to the State of California will allow. You should be able to talk about us like we’re married, not talk around it. It’s just…” He trails off and starts fiddling with the edge of his blanket.

Steve frowns. “Just what?”

“We’ve been together for fifteen years, right?” Chris asks and Steve nods, confirming. “Okay, so I think you might have been, like, the first guy I’d ever been with.” He frowns. “Well, the only guy, I suppose.”

Steve lets out a short burst of laughter, something like nervousness or confusion tainting the sound. “Chris, what the hell are you talking about?”

“The last thing I remember is that night at the bar, where you were singing, and I got your number. You remember that?”

“Yeah.” Of course he remembers, it was one of the best nights of his life. The hottest guy in the bar had stood at the front of the stage for the entire set, then he’d come up to Steve afterwards and said ‘I’m Chris, can I buy you a drink?’ and left with Steve’s number in his phone an hour later.

Chris nods in understanding. “Well, before that, I’d been out with exactly two guys, both of whom turned out to be insane freaks who I left hanging after thirty minutes of those so called ‘dates,” he put air quotes around the last word, and Steve can’t help but chuckle, “and I never saw them again.” He takes a deep breath. “So, going on the little facts I have, and how I don’t think I’m the kind of guy who would cheat, yeah, I think you’re the only guy I’ve been with.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. He remembers vividly the first time he and Chris slept together. It was their fifth date, and the first time Steve had cooked for Chris. They’d been at Steve’s apartment, and he’d kicked Jensen out for the night, and was extremely glad he did when Chris decided after dinner that he wanted a tour of the place. They’d gotten as far as Steve’s bedroom and didn’t re-emerge until noon the next day.

And Chris had definitely _not_ shown any signs of being inexperienced as far as guys were concerned.

“My whole life makes a lot less sense right now,” he mumbles, his eyes flicking back and forth across the blanket on Chris’ bed. He knows he’s probably overreacting, this revelation really shouldn’t change anything, but it makes Steve feel as though Chris has been lying to him throughout their relationship.

“Sorry,” Chris says with a shrug. “I thought that would be something we’d, you know, talk about.”

“No, you definitely didn’t bring up that little piece of information.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to seem pathetic. Guy like you, you probably wouldn’t have wanted to waste your time on a loser virgin like me.”

Steve thinks about the Chris he first met, and tries to imagine how he would have reacted if he’d found out Chris had never been with a guy before.

“I probably would have made our first time together better than what it was,” he says with a laugh. “Not that it wasn’t great, it was, but maybe I would have tried to make it a little more memorable or something. But I certainly wouldn’t have dumped you if I’d known. I’m not that kinda guy.”

“I didn’t mean to imply-” Chris starts, but Steve waves a hand in the air.

“I know you didn’t, it’s okay.”

Chris thumps his head back into his pillow and stares at the ceiling. “I feel like someone came along and stole some part of me or something. Everything feels so weird and disconnected.” He flicks his eyes to look at Steve. “I talked to my parents yesterday. My dad’s ill. They can’t travel.”

Steve gives him a tight smile. He didn’t really get much of an opportunity the other day to tell Chris about his father’s ailing health. Not that there’s anything worryingly wrong with him, but he’s just not the man Steve remembers meeting all those years ago, and he can only imagine how Chris must be taking the news.

“He’s okay, though,” he tries, his words tinged with desperation, “just not up for travelling so far.”

“My mama says we should go see them, take the girls down during summer vacation.” Chris shuffles awkwardly on the bed. “You know, if that was something you would wanna do.”

Steve feels himself grow cold. Memories of the fight with Chris in the living room, when he’d told Steve that was taking the girls to Oklahoma, and Steve suddenly finds it a little hard to breathe.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asks, leaning forward.

Steve stands abruptly stands up. “I’m fine, sorry. Um, yeah, we could…we could do that. Go see your folks, I mean. After…after you get out of here. You have any idea when that’ll be?”

He crosses the room to the window, putting a little space between himself and his husband, hoping it’ll make the images in his head go away, but he can still hear the frown in Chris’ voice when he speaks.

“You mean the doctor didn’t tell you? I can get outta here next week, depending on how the shoulder looks. They say the amnesia is temporary, and I’ll have to see some sort of specialist, to work on getting my memory back, but other than that, I’m good to go.”

Steve finds himself smiling and turns to look back at Chris, only to see him looking confused. “Hey, I thought that would be good news? You looking to stay here forever?”

“I don’t know,” Chris says, his voice shaking a little. “I mean, I’m gonna go home with you, right? That’s where I live? That’s… don’t know how I’m supposed to cope with that.”

“Hey,” Steve says softly, sitting back on the bed again, closer to Chris this time. “It’s okay, I mean, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now, but I’m here for you, whatever you need. We’ll get through this together.”

“I just…the girls. They’re gonna be so confused, Steve.”

Steve nods. “They will, but I’ll explain everything to them, make sure they understand.” He takes Chris’ hand in his, holding on tight, and is surprised when Chris holds back just as tightly. “We’ll get through this, and it might not be for long anyway. Dr. Hutton says your memory could come back at any time.”

Chris smiles at that and Steve tries to make his stomach stop rolling uncomfortably.

He tries hard not to think about what will happen when Chris’ memory does come back.

**Chapter 4**

In the end, Chris spends another two weeks in the hospital, and by the end of it, he’s about ready to climb the walls. But when Dr. Hutton comes to tell him he can go home, nerves set in, and suddenly, all Chris wants is to stay in the hospital.

Because going home means going home with Steve, and Brett and Olivia and Chris doesn’t know if he’s ready for that.

He and Steve have been getting along well these last two weeks. Steve comes to visit every day, telling Chris stories about their lives, their first date, the wedding in the backyard of Chris’ parents’ house in Oklahoma, and the more Chris gets to know the blonde man, the less surprised he is that he fell in love with him.

Still, that doesn’t mean he wants to live in the same house as the man. He’s pretty certain that they dated for a while before they decided to live together, and right now, as far as Chris is concerned, they’ve been dating for a week. Maybe not even that long.

But then he thinks about the fact that they have kids together, that, to Steve, they’ve been together for fifteen years, and he feels a piece of shit for forgetting everything, even though the doctors assure him he isn’t to blame.

It doesn’t make him feel any better.

It’s a little after three in the afternoon when Steve walks through the door of his hospital room, Dave hovering behind him.

“Ready to blow this Popsicle stand?” he says with too much enthusiasm, and Chris realizes he’s feeling as nervous about the whole situation as Chris is.

Chris waves his hand in the air, unable to do much else. “They stuck me in this fucking thing, the least you can do is get me out of it.”

The nurse who had pushed the wheelchair into the room had told Chris it was hospital policy, what with his broken leg. With the surgery on his shoulder still not healed right, Chris knew he had no choice, but it doesn’t mean he had to like it.

Steve chuckles and lifts Chris bag from where it’s still at the end of the bed, passing it to Dave without looking at him. “Come on, let’s get you outta here. Bet you’re dying for a home cooked meal.”

Chris looks up at Dave as Steve moves around behind him to grip the handles of the wheelchair, frowning a little at his old friend. They’ve known each other since elementary school, and Chris likes to think he knows Dave pretty well, so he knows when something’s bothering him.

“You alright, man?” he asks as Steve starts pushing him towards the door.

Dave shoulders his bag and exchanges a look with Steve before he gives Chris a tight smile. “Yeah, yeah, man, I’m fine. Happy that you’re finally getting outta here.”

“Dave’s just tired of looking after Jaden and Olivia when Jaime and I come to visit you. He can’t take care of the two of them by himself.”

“Fuck you, Carlson,” Dave threw at him, falling into step beside them. “You’ve never had to look after those two monsters at the same time. I swear I found them plotting to take over the world the other day. They could probably do it, too.”

Chris can’t help but smile. While he hasn’t met Dave’s children yet, Steve has brought Olivia and Brett to the hospital a few times, but he knows that Dave is telling the truth, even if he is exaggerating just a little.

Olivia is crazy smart, and talented to boot, and Chris is a little in awe of the fact that such an awesome kid came from him.

But even so, the idea of looking after a couple of kids shouldn’t have put that look on Dave’s face, and Chris makes a mental note to ask him about it as soon as they were alone.

This was the first time Dave has come to visit him with Steve. Normally he comes alone, calling in after work after Chris has urged Steve to go home and deal with the girls, and until now, Chris has never seen that look, and he can only guess that it has something to do with Steve.

The thought doesn’t inspire much confidence, since Chris is going to be living with the guy twenty-four seven.

Getting Chris from the wheelchair to the backseat of Steve’s car is more than awkward. Thanks to the cast on his left leg and his inability to use his left arm at all, Chris is no help to them, and Steve and Dave have to struggle to hold his weight has he shuffles into the back seat, moving across the other side so that he’s sitting almost sideways against the door, his casted leg stretched out on the seat.

It isn’t exactly comfortable, but Chris supposes it’s the best any of them can do.

The drive to Steve’s – and apparently, Chris’ – house takes twenty minutes, which Chris spends gripping tightly to the passenger seat in front of him so that he doesn’t go flying face first into it.

The last thing he needs right now is more injuries. Especially injuries to the head.

Steve pulls into a driveway, and through the window, Chris can see the kids playing the front yard, two of whom he doesn’t recognize, and figures they must be Dave and Jaime’s kids.

The fact that Dave has kids his funnier to Chris than he himself having kids. Dave just never seemed the paternal type.

The kids all stop in their tracks as soon as the car pulls up, though. Well, the older kids do, there’s a toddler roaming around like she’s stomping things beneath the heels of her Mary Jane’s and doesn’t pay them even a little bit of notice. Chris thinks she’s adorable.

“MOM!” the only boy in the yard yells at the top of his lungs and Chris winces at the sound, even though he’s still sitting in the back of the car with the doors closed.

“Whoever replaced his mouth with a bullhorn, I’m gonna kill them,” Dave grumbles as he opens the door and climbs out.

“Jaden Boreanaz!” Jaime screeches when she comes out onto the porch. “What have I told you about yelling so damn loudly?”

“Gee,” Chris chuckles, “I wonder where he gets it from?”

Chris blinks, and Steve pauses in exiting the car to turn and look at him.

“How’d you know that?” he asks innocently.

After a few seconds of contemplation, Chris shrugs. “Don’t know. It’s just there. Jaime’s a loud person. Like Jared.”

The smile that’s playing about Steve’s lips gets wider. “Jared? Who’s Jared?”

Chris honestly has no idea who Jared is or why he’s so loud, but he’s obviously said something right, so he doesn’t bring it up.

Not if it’s going to stop Steve smiling at him like that, because Steve hasn’t smiled at him like that for…

He cuts that thought off before it can settle in his mind.

Together with Jaime’s help, Steve and Dave help him struggle from the car and up the porch steps. The oldest kids gather round to watch, Olivia with sad eyes, obviously upset now that she knows just how broken her daddy is.

Chris gives her a strained smile, and suddenly, he has the overwhelming urge to hug her, to comfort her in any way he possibly can, just so that look will disappear from her face. The hurt in her eyes is almost too much for him to take.

It was a difficult path to the living room, the hallway too narrow to allow Chris the support that Steve and Dave had been providing so far, and he has to make due with Steve holding him from behind. And no, that does not give him any sort of ideas about what else Steve has been doing from behind. He was just glad no one asked him that question out loud. He isn’t sure he’d be able to come up with a convincing answer.

With Jaime and Dave hovering in front of him, ready to catch him if he lost his balance, it’s a slow process, but then Chris is flopping down on the couch in the living, fully intending not to move for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, this isn’t our couch.” The words are out of his mouth before the thought is fully formed in his mind and he cringes internally. But Chris looks down at the couch he’s sitting on, a light coffee color with dark brown throw pillows, this is _not_ his couch.

Steve lets out a nervous laugh. “Um, no, it isn’t. We figured stairs weren’t the best option for you right now, so I got one of those pull out couches, so that you can sleep down here for the time being. Until you get the cast off your leg at least.”

There’s something in Steve’s tone that Chris can’t quite place, something not quite catching in his brain, but he ignores it for the moment, too busy frowning at the light colored couch.

“Cream couch, two little kids. Oh, yeah, this should go well.”

In the doorway, Brett pouts and stomps her tiny foot. “Dad says we’re not allowed to have snacks in the living room anymore.”

“Dad’s right,” Chris tells her. “At least until the old couch comes back, or I can get some throw covers for this one.”

“God, could you sound anymore gay right now?” Dave laughs. “You sound like one of those guys from _Queer Eye for the Straight Guy_.”

“STFU,” Chris throws at him, giving him a withering look for good measure. “I told you I was gay when I was seventeen, man. That’s almost eighteen years you’ve had to get used to the idea. Don’t throw this stuff at me now.” He pauses in his tirade, words failing him for a few seconds. “I am _old_ ,” he says finally, looking around at the other adults in the room, all of them in their late thirties, all over them with children heading for their tenth birthdays. “When did I get to be so old?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “When you were in a coma because some douche bag drunk driver plowed into the side of your care. You’re really Sleeping Beauty, only to be awakened by a true love’s kiss.”

“Yeah?” Chris grins. “So, what? You were kissing me every day for a week straight? What took so long?”

“You’re lazy ass didn’t want to wake up,” his husband calls over his shoulder as he leaves the room. “I’m gonna make some lunch.”

“Oh!” Jaime bounces on her heels a little as she helps Chris settle more fully on the couch, propping him up with pillows and throwing a pink blanket around his legs. Although, with two daughters, he doesn’t suppose the blankets would be any other color. “Make something completely awesome. We need to remind Chris of how awesome your cooking is.” She grins down at him. “Steve owns his own restaurant. He’s a chef.”

Chris chuckles. “So I’ve been told.”

Jaime and Dave file out of the living room after Steve, leaving Chris alone with the kids.

Jaden, Olivia and Bella are all ignoring him completely, the oldest two arguing over the television and the baby asleep on the floor, like she just dropped there.

But Brett is staring at him with wide eyes filled with wonder and amazement.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Brett takes a hesitant step closer, searching his face for something Chris can’t begin to imagine, so he just raises his brows at her and waits.

“Daddy?” she asks, her voice high and excited.

“Yes, baby?”

“Are you a princess?”

@@@

“Are you going to tell him or should I?”

Steve sighs and leans against the kitchen counter, hanging his head in dejection. “Tell him what, Dave?”

“That your marriage is over and you’re dragging all this out like it’s some sort of fucking game,” Dave hisses at him.

Steve spins around to face him. “Shut the fuck up right now, Dave. You are in no position to stand here and lecture me on my marriage.”

Dave snorts. “You bet your ass I am. That’s my best friend out there, and you’re treating him like a fucking child. Keeping him in the dark like this isn’t right, it’s bordering on abuse.”

Steve laughs, but it doesn’t sound pretty even to his own ears. “That’s such a load of shit and you know it. You think it’s really the best thing, for Chris, for everyone, if I go in there right now and tell him, ‘oh, by the way, Christian, our relationship was going down the toilet because I was a bastard who went out every night and got wasted, while you stayed at home and coddled the girls. And, you know, you were gonna leave me and move to Oklahoma with Brett and Olivia, so, anytime you wanna talk about that, let me know.’” Steve glares at the other man. “Grow up, Dave. Chris doesn’t need any more stress right now. If he remembers anything, then I’ll explain everything to him. But until he does, no one breathes a word about any of this.”

Dave takes a step closer, trying to use his size over Steve to make him nervous, apparently, but Steve doesn’t react.

“You can’t stop me from telling him, Steve. He’s my best friend, I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer than you have, and if I think he deserves to know the truth then there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Steve nods, accepting that Dave’s right. “And then what happens, huh? Chris doesn’t trust me, so he moves out. In with you? Or maybe he’ll decide to go back to Oklahoma, make his mom take care of him, ‘cause God knows, that’s what she needs right now, someone else to look after.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Dave spits through gritted teeth.

“After you were the one who spilled the beans in the first place? You know how Chris feels about people like that. It’s the main reason why he didn’t tell Jaime when we saw you outside that motel three years ago.” Dave stumbles back, clearly shocked, and Steve can’t help but smirk. “How is Sarah, anyway?”

“You knew?” Dave says, horrified.

“We’ve always know.” Steve shakes his head. “But that’s not the point. The point is, no matter what you do or don’t tell Chris, the girls will stay with me.”

“You’re not keeping those girls.”

“Right now, yeah, I am. Chris doesn’t know the girls, and they damn well don’t trust him right now. You think, if this goes to court, a judge is going to grant custody to a man who has no memory of them, a man who can’t take care of them when he can’t even look after himself? Get real, Dave, they’d sooner put the girls in foster care.”

Dave opens his mouth, no doubt to throw another scaling insult at him, but his wife’s voice cuts him off before he can say anything.

“Can it, David. Steve’s right and you know it,” Jaime says from the doorway and Steve wonders just how long she’s been standing there. “Right now, the best thing for the girls is for them to stay with their father.”

“Jaime-” Dave starts, but she holds up a hand, silencing him.

“Steve’s great with Brett and Olivia, you know it and I know it. Right now, Chris has to concentrate on getting better and telling him about his marriage problems isn’t the way to do that. So for once in your life, David, shut the fuck up and do as I say.”

“No,” Dave insists. “I will not have him pretending that everything’s fine when it’s far from it.”

Jaime squares her shoulders, like she’s getting ready for battle. “You got a second chance with your family. Why doesn’t Steve deserve one?”

Steve backs up a step, away from the warring couple. He’s never heard Jaime bring up her marital problems voluntarily before, but now that she has, Steve can sort of see her point.

Two years ago, Dave was in his shoes, staying out late, drinking too much, sleeping around. He blamed the whole thing on Jaime’s pregnancy, or so he told Chris anyway. A new baby in the house, all of his wife’s time taken up with looking after her, and Dave had started to feel neglected.

Steve knows the feeling.

But the difference between him and Dave is that Dave’s partner was willing to give their marriage a second chance, and Steve’s not sure if Chris – the real Chris – is ready to do that. Or if he’ll ever be ready.

Dave hangs his head – in shame or embarrassment, Steve doesn’t know – a throws a quick, apologetic look at Steve before he brushes past Jaime and goes back to the living room.

“Are you okay?” she asks, breaking the silence that has descended upon the kitchen.

Steve shakes his head. “You didn’t have to say that.”

Jaime comes into the room proper and boosts herself up onto the counter, and Steve is reminded of the number of times in the last month he’s scolded Olivia for doing exactly that. At least he knows where she gets it from now.

“Yeah, I did,” Jaime asserts. “You didn’t deserve Dave going off at you like that, not when he’s guilty of doing the same thing you did.”

Steve hasn’t told Jaime everything that he’s done in the last year, but she knows enough from what he has said and what Chris must have told her to get the general idea, and Steve knows that he doesn’t deserve for her to be standing up for him after the things he’s done behind his husband’s back, but he’s grateful for it nonetheless.

Steve starts moving around the kitchen, pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator, the cupboards. He has no idea what he’s making, but the awkwardness in the room is getting to him enough that he just has to do something.

“Steve, can I ask you a question?” Jaime says after a few minutes, and Steve looks away from the meat sauce he’s found himself making to see her munching on a stick of celery.

“Uh, sure, I guess.” At this point, he doesn’t really think it would be wise to deny her any request. She might withdraw her support of him.

“Do you want to be here? With Chris, I mean. And the girls, obviously.”

Steve opens his mouth to answer, but she silences him with a wave of her hand, like she knows what’s coming.

“I know you think you _have_ to be here now, because of the crash. You think you have to take care of your family. But let’s say the crash didn’t happen. It’s just you and Chris, and everything’s come out. If Chris decided to give you a second chance, would you take it?”

“In a heartbeat,” he answers honestly. “The day of the crash, Chris and I had a fight, he told me he was leaving, taking the girls to Oklahoma and that I should pack up my stuff.”

Jaime nods. “He told me that morning that he was thinking about doing that.”

Steve gives her a strained smile. He’s not really surprised that she knows, she told him as much at the hospital the day Chris woke up. “I couldn’t breathe, Jaime. The idea of not having them around, it was almost too much to take. I know I was a bastard, I know I’m the one to blame for the state our marriage is in, but, God, I don’t want to lose any of them, least of all Chris. I want to be here, Jaime. I want my family back.”

“Then you need to tell him that,” Jaime says almost forcefully. “You need to make him see that _this_ is the life you want, that _he_ is who you want. I don’t know when Chris will get his memory back, or if he ever will, but you can make _this_ Chris see how important your family is to you, and if Chris does get his memory back, he’ll remember everything you did for him, for the girls. That will make a difference.”

Steve gives her a long, considering look. “You really think that’ll work?”

“Chris still loves you, I know he does. He thinks that you’re the one who wants to walk away, and he was giving you an out,” Jaime tells him. “So, no more drinking, no more fooling around. Prove to him that he’s the one you want, and take it from there.”

Steve sighs, hope fluttering in his belly. “I really hope you’re right about this.”

@@@

Steve wakes up when he hears the door across the hall opening and groans into his pillow.

Over the last month, he’s managed to break Olivia and Brett of their new-found habit of climbing into his bed, but it was a rough week for all three of them.

But, by the time Chris came home from the hospital the week before, the girls were sleeping soundly in their own beds, without any midnight wanderings, and Steve was very proud of himself for being able to handle the situation as a father, rather than running to someone for help.

Until now, apparently.

He can hear Brett and Olivia whispering in the hallway, and he sits up in bed, glaring at the door and ready to scold them whenever they open it.

But the door never opens, and Steve listens as they head for the stairs, still whispering to each other.

“Shit,” he says and throws the covers back, climbing out of bed and racing for the door.

The last thing he needs is the girls disturbing Chris while he slept. He isn’t sure what his husband would do about that, if he would be upset, and the fact that he doesn’t know distresses him more than he’d like.

Stepping into the hallway, the first thing Steve notices is that everything is dark, but looking over the banister down the stairs, he can see flashlights bouncing off the walls and he has to wonder how long his girls have been planning this.

“This is stupid, Brett,” Olivia hisses harshly. “He’s just Daddy. He’s not really a pretty princess locked in a tower.”

“He’s not Daddy.” Steve can hear the pout in Brett’s voice.

Olivia sighs, like she’s ninety, not nine. “So what do you wanna do?”

“Kiss him,” Brett sys decisively, as if there really isn’t any other option, and Steve has to smother his laughter with a hand.

He can just picture Olivia rolling her eyes. “You’ll wake him up.”

“I’ll be real careful,” Brett insists, and the flashlights bounce a little more. Steve can only assume she’s carrying out her actions.

He’s almost tempted to stop her, to put an end to this before Chris wakes up. He’s not really sure how Chris would react to something like this. He’s been fine with the girls since he came home from the hospital, showing interest in what they’re doing and concern for their wellbeing.

But then he thinks, what harm would it do? Chris has accepted the idea that Brett and Olivia are his daughters, even going so far as to hug and kiss them goodnight, the last of his resistance having withered away in the week he’s been back at home.

So Steve sits down on the top step, waiting for them to be done with whatever scheme they’re planning, and just prays that Chris doesn’t wake up, because he doesn’t really want to deal with Brett’s inevitable tears when she realizes she’s woken her daddy at – he checks his watch and groans.

Three thirty in the morning.

“It’s your turn,” Brett hisses.

“What? I don’t want a turn. This was your idea.”

“It’ll only work if we both do it,” Brett seems so convinced of her plan. “Please, Ollie.”

Olivia sighs again and all is quiet for a few seconds before Brett’s sister speaks again.

“There, I kissed him. Now come on, we have to get back to bed before Dad wakes up and knows we’re gone.”

Steve smirks to himself as he stands up, leaning back against the wall as they come out of the living room and bounce up the stairs like a herd of elephants.

Brett squeaks when she sees him.

“Little late to be wandering around, isn’t it?” he says with a raised eyebrow. Brett tries to hide behind Olivia and Steve sighs. “What were you two doing out of bed so late?” He frowns. “Or, early, if you want to look at it that way.”

Neither of them speaks, both of them staring at the floor like it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.

“Girls,” Steve says, just loud enough to let them know he’s serious. “What were you doing down there in the middle of the night? You know Daddy sleeps down there.”

Olivia huffs out a breath. “Brett thinks that Daddy is Sleeping Beauty and if she kisses him, then when he wakes up, he’ll be Daddy again.”

Steve feels all the annoyance drain out of him. “Oh, baby.” He gets down on his knees and gestures for Brett, pulling her into his arms as soon as she’s close enough. “Brett, baby, I know you miss your daddy very much, but, see, he’s not under some spell from a wicked witch or a bad fairy. He hurt his head very much in the accident, and until all that hurt is healed and better, he won’t get his memories back.”

“Maybe we kissed away the hurt,” Brett says looking up at him with her soulful blue eyes. “We kissed his head.”

Steve laughs at that. “Maybe you did. I miss Daddy, too, but we’re just going to have to be patient and let his injuries heal in their own time. We can’t make them go any faster.”

He holds his arm out to Olivia and she curls against his side, burying her face in his neck and the idea that Steve could lose this, lose the girls, if and when Chris regains his memory drifts through his mind again.

And he can’t help but worry.

**Chapter 5**

Chris wakes up and blinks against the blinding light shining through the living room windows, clearly telling him that not only is it later than he usually ever wakes up, but he apparently sleep-walked in the middle of the night and ended up sacked out on the couch.

That must have been real awesome for Steve, and Chris wonders where his husband slept instead.

When he tries to sit up, the first thing Chris notices is the twinge in his left shoulder, closely followed by the huge weight on his left leg and he throws the covers back to see the cast incasing his leg.

“What the fuck?” he says to himself.

Girlish giggles float in from the kitchen and everything hits Chris all at once, like a huge blow with a sledge hammer.

Or like a station wagon driving straight into the side of his car.

Chris lets himself fall back onto the pillows of his makeshift bed as past events catch up with him. He can’t believe he’s been so out of it for so long. Almost two months with no memory, no idea who he is, who his daughters are, who his husband is.

Thoughts of Steve settle in the front of his mind, and he can’t help but smile as he remembers how worried and loving and attentive Steve has been since the accident. It was almost like having his husband back, the man he loved reappearing and Chris couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

As he struggles to the end of the bed, Chris wonders what would have happened if he hadn’t lost his memory in the crash, and the answer comes to him almost immediately. He would have done exactly what he’d been doing to Steve these last two years. He’d push him away.

He doesn’t know where the knowledge comes from, but it’s there, clear as day. He can imagine perfectly what he would have done if he’d come out of the coma with his memory intact.

He would have told Steve to fuck off to whatever shithole bar he’d pulled himself out of.

Chris is more than a little ashamed of himself and he has no real idea why.

He reaches for the crutches the hospital sent home with him and manages to fit one under his good arm and he’s able to struggle to his feet. He wants to see Brett and Olivia more than anything; it almost feels like he hasn’t seen them in months, which he guesses is sort of true.

It slow progress, but finally Chris manages to stumble awkwardly down the hallway to lean against the wall outside the kitchen door. The scene at the breakfast bar is something Chris never thought he would see.

Brett and Olivia are sitting next to each other on one side of the bar, eating whatever it is that Steve has made them for breakfast. Steve sits across from them on the other side. He’s resting his chin on his folded arms, a cup of coffee next to his elbow, and he’s looking at the girls like he thinks they might just be the most amazing things he’s ever laid eyes on.

Something in Chris’ heart breaks a little at the sight, at the happiness that is pouring out of his kitchen and he feels like a complete idiot.

He doesn’t need anyone to tell him that Steve loves their daughters more than anything in this world, the evidence is right there in front of him, nor does he need anyone to tell him that he’s been a moron for thinking the complete opposite.

The fight from the day of the day of the crash comes back to Chris’ mind and he remembers what Steve said to him, about Chris acting like a single father and never letting Steve have any time with the girls, and it’s with a sickening feeling in his stomach that Chris realizes his husband was right.

They had decided, long before Olivia was even conceived, that Chris would be the one to stay at home and look after any children that they had. He was a writer, contributing articles to music and art magazines alike, putting both of his degrees to good use, and that sort of job meant that it would be easy for him to work from home, easy for him to write and look after their children while Steve ran the restaurant with Jensen’s help.

But it was like, as soon as Brett was born, Chris had forgotten that the girls had two parents and not just one. The restaurant was a huge success at that point, meaning Steve was rushed off his feet most of the time, so when he came home, Chris tried to keep the girls away, to let Steve relax after a hard day. But somehow that had morphed into Chris thinking that Steve didn’t want to spend any time with them at all, and now he realizes just how wrong he’d been.

He just has no idea how he’s supposed to fix it. Or even if Steve wants him to fix it.

He shifts against the wall, his good leg growing stiff from holding all his weight, and Steve must sense the movement, or catch it in the corner of his eye, because he turns to him, a look of surprise and worry on his face.

“Chris, what the hell are you doing?” he scolds, pushing himself away from the breakfast bar and rushing to Chris’ side. “You shouldn’t be out of bed by yourself.”

“Uh, I needed to use the bathroom,” he says and it sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

“Then you should have called me,” Steve tells him. “That’s what I’m here for.”

Chris nods dumbly at that, and looks past Steve’s shoulder to the girls. Olivia is staring at him with a look that is nothing short of a reprimand, but Brett is frowning.

“Brett?” Chris asks as he allows Steve to take most of his weight and turn him towards the bathroom down the other hall. “Are you okay?”

“Uh, huh,” she says, but she sounds distracted, like she’s in the middle of watching those High School Musical movies she’s so addicted to.

Chris just frowns at her, and lets Steve lead him away.

“Do you need anything?” Steve asks when Chris is balanced against the handrail that the hospital sent them home with. Even after a month, it’s still embarrassing that his husband has to help him go to the toilet. Even more so now that he actually remembers his husband.

Chris shakes his head. “No, I’m good for now.”

“Do you wanna take a shower?” Steve’s hovering in the doorway, a crease between his brows, like he knows something with Chris is not quite right and Chris tries to give him a smile.

“No, thanks. I’ll do that later.” Normally, Chris likes to shower in the mornings, start the day off fresh, but right now, he sort of thinks if he stands – or rather, sits – under the hot spray, he’ll think too much about what he should be doing about his situation and he’ll probably drown. That’s not really how he wants this to go.

Once he’s taken care of business, Chris shuffles over to the sink and stares at the mirror as he washes his hands. He’s not sure if he should be seeing something different, but he feels like he _should_ be different, like there should have been some outwardly sign of his lost memory, and that should be gone now because he’s fixed. He’s better. Isn’t he?

There’s a tentative knock on the door, making Chris startle and lose his balance and he has to catch himself on the sink. “Shit.”

“Chris?” Steve sounds worried even through the closed door. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just…just lost my footing, I guess.”

“Are you…” Steve trails off, then clears his throat. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

The door opens slowly, carefully, like Steve’s afraid he’s going to find Chris on the floor with his pants around his ankles, and Chris can’t help the chuckle that escapes him.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Steve asks again as he takes Chris’ weight and guides him out of the bathroom back to the living room and the pull out couch he’s been living on for more than a month.

“I’m fine, I swear,” Chris is quick to reassure. “Um, can I…” he’s not really sure how to ask the question, the fact that he thinks he has to ask at all makes him feel a little queasy.

“What? Do you need something?” Steve is so fucking attentive. It’s making Chris feel even more like a bastard for what he did.

“Um, I just wanna go to the kitchen. I’m really tired of staring at the same four walls, man.”

Steve turns his head a little so that he can look into Chris’ eyes and Chris doesn’t know whether to hope his husband finds what he’s looking for or that he doesn’t.

Then Steve smiles. “Sure, of course. I mean, if you think you’re up to it?”

Chris tries to give him a scathing look but he’s not sure he can pull it off in his current position. “I think I can manage to sit in a chair and eat some breakfast.”

Steve blushes. Actually blushes. Chris is sort of fascinated by the color flooding Steve’s face, but he doesn’t comment and Steve just leads him to the kitchen and helps him settle onto one of the bar stools.

“Morning!” Olivia says brightly while Brett just looks at him with a smug expression on her face.

“Everything okay, Brett?” he asks carefully as he sips from the mug of coffee Steve places in front of him.

The phone rings before Brett answers.

“Dammit,” Steve says from where he’s wrestling with something on the stove. “Um, Olivia, can you get that?”

“Sure.” Olivia jumps down from her stool and races to the hallway to get the phone.

“My omelet pan has apparently seen better days,” Steve mumbles to himself as he dumps whatever he was cooking in the trash.

Chris winces. “Yeah, I might have accidentally used that for an indoor barbeque. Sorry, man.” And then he winces again when he realizes his mistake in mentioning something he shouldn’t remember, but Steve just smiles.

“I’ll pick one up at the store later, it’s no big deal.” He shrugs. “No omelet now, though. Scrambled eggs?”

Chris nods. “Sounds good.”

Steve moves to the fridge and starts gathering new ingredients and Chris notices Brett is still staring at him. He narrows his eyes at her and she giggles, leaning in across the table like she’s about to tell him a secret.

“Hi, Daddy,” she whispers, giggling again and putting her hands over her mouth. “I missed you.”

Chris can do nothing but laugh and shake his head. “You are too observant for your own good, Brett Carlson-Kane.” He puts a finger to his lips. “Our secret, okay?”

Brett copies his actions. “Secret.”

“That’s my girl.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Steve asks, turning to smile at them.

Chris winks at Brett. “It’s a secret.”

Brett giggles again, and all Chris wants to do is pull her into his arms and hug her, kiss her dirty blonde hair. It feels like it’s been months since he did that.

“You know, that makes me really nervous,” Steve laughs. He looks out towards the hallway and Chris follows his glance to see Olivia still on the phone. “Ollie, who is it?”

It’s odd, hearing Steve use the nickname. It had been something Dave had started originally, but now it was mostly just Jaden and Brett who continued to use it, thinking it made them cooler than their parents. To hear the name roll off Steve’s tongue so easily is almost nice.

Olivia comes back into the kitchen, the phone still pressed to her ear, and looks up at Steve with wide, pleading eyes. Chris has to hide his grin behind his coffee cup, because he knows that look and he knows that Steve will cave to whatever it is she wants. Olivia learned from the best, and Jared was a damn good teacher.

“It’s Jaden’s birthday and he’s having a slumber party tonight and he wants me and Brett to go,” she says in a rush. “Please, Dad, can we?”

Steve flounders, turning a panicked look on Chris. “It’s Jaden’s birthday? Why didn’t anyone tell me it was Jaden’s birthday? I don’t have a gift for him or anything.”

Chris glances at the calendar pinned to the fridge. “His birthday’s on Tuesday, actually, but Jaime usually has his party the weekend closest.”

“Oh,” Steve says slowly, chewing on his lower lip.

Chris tries not the flinch under his husband’s gaze. That’s twice his (he) slipped up and he hasn’t even been awake that long. Coming clean sooner rather than later seems like the wiser option at this stage, and having the girls out of the house for the night might be the best thing for everyone involved.

“I still don’t have a gift,” Steve says, pouting slightly.

“Aunt Jaime says we don’t have to be their til six,” Olivia says, tugging on Steve’s t-shirt.

Steve sighs, chewing on his thumbnail now. “Is this okay with you?” He glances at Chris.

“It’s not up to me,” Chris replies with a shrug, hissing out a pained breath when his shoulder pulls.

“Alright, tell Jaime I’ll bring you guys over later. We can head out after lunch and get something for Jaden.”

“Yes!” Olivia crows and races back out of the room. “Dad says we can go!”

Brett wrinkles her nose. “Can I take my Teddy with me?”

“Of course you can, baby.” Steve kisses the top of her head.

The move is so genuine, so easy, that Chris can do nothing but stare. The love Steve has for Brett is shining through the look in his eyes, and Chris feels like he’s intruding on a very private moment between a man and his daughter. He feels like an outsider in his own family, and suddenly he wonders if this is how Steve always felt, if this is what he’s been dealing with for years.

Chris didn’t know it was possible to feel even more of a bastard.

He sits on his stool and watches as Steve shoos Brett off to get dressed, telling her to tell her sister to do the same, and then he turns back to making Chris’ breakfast. He stays silent, and Chris honestly can’t seem to find the words to break that silence.

He tries to remember what he would say in the past, when things were good and sitting and the breakfast bar watching Steve cook was a normal Saturday morning.

The fact that he can’t even remember the last time they did this makes Chris heart hurt more than he thought was possible.

A few minutes later, Steve sets a plateful of bacon and scrambled eggs down in front of Chris.

“Enjoy,” he says with a tight smile before he turns to head for the door, probably to see how the girls are getting on, Chris assumes.

His hand moves without his permission, wrapping around Steve’s wrist and pulling him back.

“Chris?” he asks with a frown.

Chris swallows around the lump in his throat. “Um, will you sit with me? Just, have breakfast with me?”

Something softens in Steve’s eyes. “Sure, man. Of course.”

He pours himself another cup of coffee and sits down on the stool Brett had vacated, stealing a piece of bacon from Chris’ plate.

Chris just nods, takes a deep breath, and digs into his breakfast.

@@@

A few hours later, Steve is standing in the middle of a toy store while Brett and Olivia run rings around him as they try to find a gift for Jaden.

“What about this?” Brett asks, skidding to halt in front of him.

Steve purses his lips as he stares at the box in his daughter’s hands. “Baby, I really don’t think Jaden would like a Malibu Barbie Dream House.”

Brett pouts and looks down at the bright pink box. “Why not?”

“Because Jaden’s not a girl, and he is definitely not _you_.”

“Well, can I have it?”

Steve has to laugh at the sheer nerve. “Is it your birthday?” She shakes her head. “Alright then, come back to me when it is your birthday and we’ll talk about it. For now, put it back and go find Jaden a boy’s toy.”

Brett’s still pouting when she walks away, her head hanging low and Steve just shakes his head.

“Hey, Dad?” someone calls a few minutes later and Steve turns to see Olivia behind him, walking and reading the back of a DVD at the same time.

“Did you find something for Jaden?” Steve asks hopefully, desperate to be out of the store.

“No,” Olivia answers, distracted.

“Yes,” Brett counters, running past her sister and shoving some sort of robot into Steve’s hands.

“Uh, are you sure this is what Jaden wants?”

Brett nods. “Yes.”

“Ollie?”

Olivia looks away from the DVD case to the box. “He wants the whole set.”

“Well, I don’t think I can afford the whole set, so one will just have to do.” Steve nods, satisfied that they’re done and can get out of the store. He heads towards the checkout, Brett on his heels, but Olivia is lagging behind, and Steve turns to see his oldest daughter still reading the back of the DVD case. “Olivia, what is that?”

Olivia looks up, and Steve notices that she’s blushing slightly. “Um, it’s a movie that I used to watch with Daddy.”

Steve frowns and holds his hand out for the case and Olivia hands it over with a little uncertainty.

“Swiss Family Robinson?” he reads, suddenly confused. “Damn, I haven’t seen this movie since you were a baby, Olivia.”

Olivia smiles, but it’s bittersweet, and Steve thinks she’s too young to have an expression like that, and he wonders just how much of the problems between him and Chris she was witness to.

“We used to watch it all the time until Brett thought the disc was a Frisbee and threw it against the wall. It broke into, like, a billion pieces.”

“They were all shiny,” Brett agrees with a giggle. “I stuck them on the wall in the backyard. Daddy helped.”

“You wanna get this for Daddy?”

Olivia shrugs, almost like she’s embarrassed by whatever idea she’s had. “I thought it might make him remember me. Us. If we watched it together, it might make him remember. Right?”

Steve’s heart breaks a little.

He thought the girls were over the fact that Chris doesn’t remember them. Theoretically, Chris knows that Brett and Olivia are his daughters, but that’s only because Steve told him and the girls continued to refer to him as their father. Making them call Chris by his real name would have been even more confusing for them than the accident, and Steve had refused to entertain the idea when Dave suggested it back before Chris got out of the hospital.

But he feels guilty that he hasn’t realized just how upset Olivia still is by the thought of her father not remembering who she is. He should have noticed something like that.

“I don’t know if it’ll make him remember, Sweetheart, but we can get the movie. Maybe we can all watch it tomorrow when you get home from Jaden’s.”

“But Daddy’s all bet-”

Brett cuts herself off and Steve looks down at her. She has both of her hands clamped over her mouth, her eyes wide.

“Daddy’s all what?” Steve repeats, but he has a funny feeling he already knows what Brett was going to say. The little girl shakes her head, her hands still covering her mouth. “Brett, honey, what were you going to say?”

“It’s a secret,” she says, putting her hands back over her mouth as soon as she’s said the words.

Steve swallows hard. His mind is racing, his breathing shallow, and he has to take a deep breath to calm himself down before he speaks.

“Daddy’s all better?” he says, finishing Brett’s sentence for her.

Tears shine in Brett’s eyes and she takes her hands away. “I wasn’t s’pposed to say anything. It was supposed to be a secret.”

“Dad?” Olivia asks, her voice thick and Steve can do nothing but shake his head.

He gets down on his knees in front of Brett, wiping at the tears now spilling down her cheeks with his thumbs.

“Baby, listen to me, I promise you – I promise – Daddy won’t be mad at you for telling me his secret, but you have to tell me everything you know. I have to take him to the hospital. You remember Dr. Hutton?” Brett nods. “Well, he has to check and make sure everything in Daddy’s head is okay now. If he remembers, then it might mean the hurt in his head is all better now. But to do that, he has to take pictures of inside Daddy’s head. Like he did before.”

Brett chews on her lower lip for a second and Steve resists the urge to shake whatever it is out of her.

“He looks different.”

Steve deflates. If all Brett is going on is that Chris looked different this morning, he could be getting worked up over nothing.

“He told me not to tell you because it was a secret.”

Steve kisses the top of her head before he stands back to his full height and does the same to Olivia. “Come on; let’s go pay for these, and then I’ll drop you off at Aunt Jaime’s.”

“No,” Olivia says, pulling on his arm. “I want to go home and see Daddy.”

“Sweetheart, listen,” Steve says to her, “if I have to take Daddy to the hospital, then I’m going to have to leave you with Aunt Jaime anyway. So you might as well go over there now and enjoy the party, and Aunt Jaime can bring you home tomorrow. And then we can all watch the movie together, okay?”

Olivia pouts a little, but she nods her head and Steve takes it as a win.

They get in line, and Steve pays for the robot-thing and the DVD, picking up a card and a gift-bag at the checkout counter.

The drive to Jaime’s house is mostly silent. Brett sings along to the bubblegum pop that’s pouring out of the speakers, but Olivia is quiet, staring out the window at the passing scenery.

“Ollie?” Steve asks when he can’t take it anymore. He watches her through the rearview mirror as she returns his gaze, Chris’ blue eyes reflecting back at him.

“Are things going to go back to the way they were now?” she asks suddenly, her lip quivering like she’s wasting all her energy on keeping herself from crying.

“What do you mean, Sweetheart?”

“If Daddy’s better, are you going to go away again?”

“I didn’t go away,” Steve says, but now he’s the one who’s holding back tears, because from Olivia’s point of view, he probably did just go away.

“I don’t want Daddy to be sad anymore. And I don’t want you to be mad all the time again.”

“None of that’s going to happen, Olivia, I promise. Daddy and I are going to work everything out.” He reaches his hand out behind him, around the seat until he can sense Olivia, sitting in the seat directly behind his, lean forward to put her smaller hand in his.

He hopes he can keep that promise.

One more turn, and their on Jaime’s street and Steve pulls the car to a halt in front of the house.

Jaime’s standing on her front porch with her cellphone pressed to her ear when Steve starts to unload the girls from the car. He packed all their things before they left for the toy store, so he takes their stuff from the trunk, handing Brett her My Little Pony suitcase and her teddy bear, while Olivia slings her Cowboys backpack over her shoulder.

“Um, can you hold on a sec?” Jaime says to whoever she’s speaking to and turns to them with a huge smile. “Hey, guys! You’re early! I wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so.”

“We had to get Jaden’s birthday present!” Brett exclaims before Steve can come up with a reasonable excuse.

He blushes. “I’m sorry; I didn’t know it was his birthday until you called this morning.” Yet another thing for him to feel guilty about, Jaden was practically his nephew and he had no idea when the boy’s birthday was. At least he knows what age he is.

Jaime just laughs, phone held tight to her shoulder, whoever’s on the other end waiting patiently apparently. “It’s fine, I’m glad you’re here. Means you guys can help me get set up for the party!”

Brett cheers excitedly while Olivia smiles, proud to be asked.

“Jaden and Bella are in the living room, why don’t you guys go on in and I’ll be there in a second?”

“Bye Dad.” Olivia stands up on her tiptoes and Steve leans down the rest of the way to kiss her goodbye and then she tears off into the house, screaming Jaden’s name at the top of her lungs.

He crouches down next to Brett and hugs her tight. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Baby. Be good for Aunt Jaime and Uncle Dave.”

Brett nods against his shoulder. “Don’t be mad at Daddy,” she whispers to him.

“I’m not mad,” Steve promises her. “I’m just worried about him.”

Steve lets her go and watches as she gives Jaime a quick hug before she skips off into the house. It’s the first time Steve has spent the night away from them since he turned into their main caregiver, and that fact is making him more than a little stressed out. It’s taking everything he has not to run inside, pick them both up, and bundle them back into the car and take them home again.

But he needs to talk to Chris, and this is the perfect excuse to get some time alone with him, without the girls always running in and asking for something, help with homework, or a song before bed.

He also needs to make sure the girls are safe in case he has to take Chris back to the hospital to check out whatever’s going on in his head. If Brett’s right and his memories are back, then he’ll probably need another MRI or something to confirm that whatever damage there was has healed.

There’s also more than a slight possibility that with Chris’ memories coming back, he’s remembered that he was planning to leave Steve, and he might decide he still wants to do that, broken leg and shattered shoulder or not.

Steve’s determined that he won’t let his family go without a fight this time, and he’s glad the girls will be out of the house, because he’s pretty sure that fight could get loud.

“Steve?!”

Steve blinks. “Huh?” Jaime’s looking at him with a bemused smile on her face and he ducks his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, guess I spaced out.”

“I said, do you wanna come in and hang out for a while? Dave’s gonna be barbequing out back and we have some other parents coming to hang out for the party.” Jaime grins. “You could finish your orientation into the fabulous world of parenting!”

He laughs, but it doesn’t sound very enthusiastic. “Thanks, but I think I should be getting home.”

“Is everything okay?”

Steve looks past Jaime, into the hallway of her house to make sure the girls aren’t in earshot before he speaks. “Brett says that Chris has his memories back, but he told her to keep it a secret. I don’t know if she’s just hoping that he’s better.” He sighs. “Actually, I’m hoping it’s all in her head. The idea that Chris has got his memories back, but he’s pretending he hasn’t, it’s…I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

Jaime shrugs. “Maybe he’s just scared, doesn’t know how you’re going to react. It’s probably a little disconcerting to suddenly wake up and have all his memories back after all this time. Plus, now he has to reconcile the fact that you’ve been the one who’s been taking care of these past few months. It might be a little much for him to deal with. Maybe he just needs some time to get his head around everything.”

“I should be helping him with that, though,” Steve argues. “I don’t like the thought of him going through all of this alone when I could be there to help him. It’s like leaving him to suffer alone.”

“Maybe that’s just what he’s used to.” Jaime gives him a sad smile and Steve feels himself flood with guilt and shame once again.

“I should go. Can you do me a favor and hang on to the girls for a little longer tomorrow? Just in case I need to take Chris to the hospital, or things don’t…don’t go the way I want them to.”

“Sure thing, Steve. I’ll keep them as long as I can, but you know what they’re like. Stubborn at the best of times.”

Steve smiles in agreement and turns back towards his car, ready to get this over with.

As he slides behind the wheel, he notices Jaime putting the phone back to her ear and he wonders who could have possibly been holding on this long.

He starts the car and takes a deep breath before putting it into gear and pulling out of his parking space. He has twenty minutes until he gets home.

Twenty minutes to come up with a plan of attack for winning his husband back does not sound like nearly long enough.

**Chapter 6**

_“So, I take it you heard all that?”_ Jaime says, her voice quieter now, not that it really matters.

Through the phone line, Chris can hear what he guesses is Steve’s car starting and pulling away from the front of Jaime’s house and he sighs, throwing his head back against the cushions of the fold-out couch he’s still camped out on.

_“By my estimation, you’ve got about twenty minutes to get your act together,”_ Jaime tells him. _“And whatever you were planning, you might wanna change that. He seemed pretty in the loop from where I was standing.”_

“I thought Brett would have a little more loyalty than that.” He’s not pouting. There are no witnesses.

He can almost hear Jaime rolling her eyes. _“Jesus, Chris, come on. He’s been the only person who’s been there for her for the past three months. She’s five years old; she hasn’t got the thought processes for loyalty. The only thing she knows is that Steve is her father, and she needs to respect him. Now, if it had been Olivia in Brett’s shoes, you might have been okay.”_

Chris snorts at that. “Well, at least Steve remembers that he _is_ their father. I suppose I should be grateful for that.”

_“He’s trying, Chris. He’s doing the best he can for those girls – and you – even though he’s totally out of his element. He’s been flying blind these past few months, and he’s done a damn good job.”_

“Then why couldn’t he do that before? Why did it have to take a fucking accident like this to make him wake up and realize that he was actually a part of this family?”

_“Because the accident finally allowed you to need him,”_ Jaime says carefully. “ _You didn’t need him, Chris, that’s why Steve went so far off the reservation. I’m not saying that Steve wasn’t wrong when he did what he did, because he was wrong, and Steve knows that. I just think you need to look at_ why _he did what he did.”_

Chris is suddenly even more confused than when he started this conversation. “Jaime-”

She cuts him off. _“I’m gonna go. Steve’ll be there soon, and I have a party to get ready for. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Chris.”_

“Jaime,” he calls again, but all he gets is a dial tone.

Throwing the phone aside, Chris runs his fingers through his hair, more tired than ever.

He knows, deep down, that he’s just as much to blame for the state of his marriage as Steve is, but to hear someone else say it – to hear it spoken somewhere outside of his own head – is almost too much.

He keeps thinking about their lives, about things he could have done differently, could have changed.

Did they get married too young? Have kids too soon?

Chris doesn’t think it was either of those things, though. The problem started with him, when he dedicated himself to being the girls’ full-time parent. Maybe part of him did forget that Brett and Olivia had two parents, that Steve was just as important in their lives as Chris was.

But still, Steve’s the one who had gone out and slept with other people, who got drunk off his ass most nights.

Had Chris really pushed him to that? The idea is not something he wants to think about.

He’s spent so much of the last year blaming Steve for all their problems that now it’s difficult for him to admit that it takes two people to let a marriage fail.

When Steve pulled away, Chris didn’t exactly try to stop him.

Sitting on the couch, staring into space –thinking about everything that had gone wrong – Chris loses sense of time and only comes back to himself when the front door opens.

He takes a deep breath, wincing when his shoulder pulls painfully, and turns to look when the living room door opens.

“Hey,” Steve says quietly, and Chris knows he’s beat before he even tries to lie about having memories back.

He nods his head slowly, staring down at his hands so that he won’t have to look at Steve. “Hi.”

“Do you need to go to the hospital?” Steve asks after a beat of silence, and Chris looks up sharply. “Dr. Hutton said we should be careful about your memory suddenly returning. It could be a sign that the trauma’s shifted, not better.”

Chris shakes his head carefully. “I don’t…I think I’m okay for now. It’s…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “I’ve been remembering tiny things since the day I left the hospital. I knew this wasn’t our couch my first day home, remember?”

Steve huffs a breath as he moves into the room, dropping into an armchair. “Shit, and you didn’t tell me? You didn’t think that was something we should tell the doctors about?”

Chris shrugs. “I don’t have an answer for you, Steve. I don’t know why I never told you.” He looks up, a sudden thought crossing his mind. “What happened that day? The last thing I remember is…” he trails off, because the last thing he remembers is the fight with Steve.

Steve gives him a tight smile. “The last thing you remember is telling me to pack my shit?”

Chris nods, almost unwillingly.

“From what the cops told me, some drunk driver ran a stop sign and plowed into the side of your car. He wasn’t hurt as bad as you – which, what kind of stupid fucking karma is that? – but the cops caught him at the scene and arrested him. He pled guilty, apparently.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

They fall into silence. Chris directs his gaze back down to his hands, but he can feel Steve’s eyes on him and he’s reminded of a time in his life when all he wanted was for Steve to look at him, to notice him. Used to be that Steve could say so much with just a look, he could tell Chris when he was happy, upset, turned on or mad as fucking hell, but now…now he can’t even fathom a guess as to what’s spinning through Steve’s mind.

When did he stop knowing what Steve was thinking every second? Why hadn’t he noticed that? God, had they drifted so far apart that they were now completely different people?

“So how long did it take before Brett spilled my secret?” Chris asks when the silence gets to be too much for him.

Steve huffs a laugh. “She did pretty good. Lasted right up until we were ready to hit the checkout at the toy store. Olivia wanted to buy a copy of The Swiss Family Robinson. She thought that if we all watched it together, like we used to do when she was younger, that would make you remember. Then Brett informed us that you were already all better. She thinks you’re going to be mad at her for telling me.”

Chris shakes his head. “I’m not mad at her. It was stupid and selfish to try and make her promise not to tell anyone.”

“You’re not mad at her, you could never be mad at her, I know that,” Steve says slowly, “but you’re upset that I know.” Chris turns his head away, staring at the opposite wall so that Steve can’t see the truth of his words. “You were gonna keep it from me?”

“Not for long. I just wanted to…I don’t even know. Watch you, I guess. I remember everything since the day I woke up in the hospital and I can’t seem to wrap my head around the fact that you’re here. Playing happy families with the girls and acting like everything’s normal.”

Chris can almost feel Steve’s scowl, but he doesn’t turn his gaze back to his husband. “They needed some stability, Chris. They were so scared and upset after what happened that they took to sleeping in our bed with me.” He pauses, and Chris knows what’s coming. “You thought I would just walk away, didn’t you? You thought I would just turn my back on our daughters and let them…what? Be taken in by social services? Let Dave and Jaime look after them?”

Maybe he does still know Steve the way he always has.

He turns back to glare at the man – stranger almost – sitting on the other side of the living room. “That’s just it, Steve, I didn’t know. I’ve been sitting here since the moment you left, trying to reconcile the man who’s been drinking and whoring his life away for the last year with the man who made my daughter’s breakfast this morning, and smiled and laughed with them so easily it’s like he’s been doing it their whole lives.” He narrows his eyes at Steve. “Can you honestly tell me you would have done the same thing if I hadn’t lost my memory in the crash?”

Steve chuckles, but it sounds empty almost. “No, Chris, the question is, if you hadn’t lost your memory in the crash, would you have _let_ me be here for the girls?”

Chris opens his mouth to say something, but he doesn’t have an argument for that, because the truth is, no, he wouldn’t have. He would have probably called in Jaime or something.

Steve’s smile is sad and it hurts Chris’ heart. “That’s what I thought.”

“Well, what do you expect?” Chris shouts, annoyed that he can’t get up and pace the room like he wants to thanks to the cast on his leg. “It’s not like you were around for the past year, it’s not like you’ve ever been here for them.”

He’s getting angry, and, really, that’s the last thing he wants. He wants to talk, to sort this out like the rational adults they are. But his emotions are all over the place, like he’s making up for not making use of them for the last three months.

“And whose fault is that?” Steve snaps, clearly just as mad. “You never let me spend any time with them. After Brett was born, you pushed me out of their lives. And I missed them! God, you have no idea how much I missed spending time with Olivia. How much I missed seeing Brett growing up. It was like I was watching from the outside, at this perfect little family that I suddenly wasn’t a part of anymore.”

Chris blinks. Well, yeah, he can sort of see why Steve would have seen it like that.

“I thought…I thought I was doing what was best for you. The restaurant was doing so well, and when you came home, you were always so tired. I just thought, if I kept the girls out of the way, you’d be able to relax, unwind in peace.”

Steve looks at him, studying his face, and Chris fights the urge to shift uncomfortably.

“And you? Did you think I didn’t want to be around you? Is that why you were always locked up in your office after the girls were in bed? Is that why you pulled away from me?”

“I didn’t mean to pull away,” Chris says the words spilling from his mouth without his permission and Steve smiles, a real, honest smile, and something in Chris’ stomach flips at the sight of it.

“Why didn’t you say something? Talk to me?” Chris asks, because, honestly, it’s a question he’s been asking himself since long before the crash.

“Hey, I tried,” Steve says, getting up to do the pacing that Chris can’t, “but you always seemed busy. Something with the girls, or work or…shit, I don’t even know. One day, it just got to be too much.”

“And, what? You thought you’d find the answer in the bottom of a bottle? Or when you were buried balls deep in someone who wasn’t me?” Chris laughs at Steve’s alarmed look. “I’m not an idiot, Steve. You come home smelling of cheap perfume and cologne. It doesn’t take a genius to work it out.”

Steve’s eyes harden. “Never, not once, did I fuck anyone who wasn’t you. You’re the only person I’ve fucked in fifteen years.”

Chris nods. “Oh, so I’m supposed to be grateful that you resigned yourself to blowjobs and handjobs, is that right?”

Steve takes a few stumbling steps towards him, some weird mixture of anger and shame in his expression. “You wanna know about those people I was with? How I chose them?”

Chris turns his head away. “I really, really don’t.”

“They had long brown hair or deep blue eyes. Or wide shoulders that I could hold onto and pretend, just for a little while, that it was you. I could pretend that you still wanted me.”

“I never said I didn’t want you,” Chris tells him, his voice soft. “You just…”

“I just what?” Steve asks when Chris trials off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. “Stopped trying?” he asks when Chris doesn’t answer. “Why would I try when it looked like you wanted nothing to do with me?”

“That wasn’t…I didn’t mean…” Chris clamps his mouth shut, because he can’t see to come up with a good defense. You can’t really defend yourself against the truth.

“You made it seem like you didn’t love me anymore.”

“And that made it okay for you to go out and screw around with…God; I don’t even want to know how many people you cheated on me with.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not trying to defend myself here, Chris. There is nothing I can say that will make what I did okay. Nothing. But you are not innocent in all of this, so don’t sit there and try to force all of the blame onto me, because that’s not going to fly anymore.”

“I never cheated on you,” Chris says forcefully and Steve rolls his eyes.

“God, I know that! I’m not trying to suggest that you did!”

“Then what is this about? What are you trying to say?!”

“I want you to accept that you pushed me away!” Steve yells. He pauses and squeezes his eyes closed, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “I was a bastard, I know that. I should have worked harder to try to figure out what was going on with you.”

Chris frowns. “There was nothing going on with me.”

“Then why? Why did you make me feel like you didn’t love me?”

“I didn’t…I didn’t think that’s what I was doing. I had no idea how…isolated I was making you feel.”

Steve sits down on the edge of the fold-out couch, closer to Chris than he has been for over a year in anything other than necessity. “Then what where you trying to do?”

“Be the best father I could be,” he answers honestly. “I never thought that I was doing anything…abnormal. This was what my parents did. My mom took care of the kids – of me and my sister – and my dad went out to work and earned the money. It was just our way of life.” Chris shrugs. “Since it was my job to take care of the kids, that’s what I did. I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.”

“And me? You didn’t think you needed to take care of me?”

“You’re a grown man; you can’t take care of yourself?”

Steve gave him another sad smile. “Sometimes a man just wants to feel like he’s wanted. Needed.”

Chris nods. “That’s what Jaime said. She said the only thing you needed to…change was to feel like we needed you.”

“You were the one on the phone, when I dropped the girls at Jaime’s,” Steve says in a moment of clarity. He looks shocked to the core. “You told Jaime you had your memory back before you told me?”

Chris blanches. “Steve, it wasn’t like that. I just needed someone to talk to, someone to help me sort my head out.”

“Why Jaime? Why can’t I be that person?” the sadness that fills Steve’s face is heartbreaking. “I used to be that person. I used to be the one person you could tell anything to, and yet you turn to someone else?”

“Because she went through the same thing,” Chris admits honestly. “She was the only person who understood.”

Steve appears to deflate, like all the fight has gone out of him, like he just can’t be bothered anymore.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me,” he says finally, before he gets to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Chris asks, suddenly wanting nothing more than for Steve to just…stay with him.

Steve rakes his fingers through his hair. “I think I just want to be alone.”

Chris’ hand moves without his permission and he reaches out to grab hold of Steve’s wrist. “Don’t go, please.”

Faced with the very real possibility of losing Steve, Chris realizes that’s the last thing he wants. He would laugh if he had the energy. Three months ago, the only thing he really wanted was for Steve to just leave.

And now he’ll do anything to convince the man to stay.

“I want to try to fix this,” he pleads. They were both in the wrong, both lousy husbands, but it’s going to take both of them if they want to save their marriage.

Steve shakes his head again, but it’s a defeated movement, and when he speaks, Chris can hear tears in his voice.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

Chris swallows hard. “What do you mean?”

Steve keeps his back to Chris. “Do you even want to save this relationship, Chris?”

Chris is taken aback by the question and it takes him a minute to answer. “Don’t be an idiot, Steve.”

“You seemed like you’d made up your mind three months ago. Why should things have changed now?”

“Because…because they have,” Chris stammers. “Things _are_ different now, Steve.”

Finally, Steve turns to look at him. “Are they? The only thing I can see that’s changed is that we’re both on the same page now. But I don’t think that’s enough.”

Chris can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes and he sighs in defeat. “What do you want me to do, Steve? Anything you want, I’ll do it.” He means it. If it means he’ll get his husband back, if it means the man he fell in love with will come back to him, Chris will do anything. He blinks up at Steve with wet eyes. “What do you want?”

“You,” Steve says simply. “That’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

Chris can feel his heartbeat speed up and he takes a deep breath, steeling himself against the words he’s about to say.

“I’m right here, Steve. I’ve always been right here.”

Steve is crying now, heavy tears falling down his cheeks as he shakes his and head yet again. “Please don’t do this to me,” he says in a pained whisper. “Please don’t offer this if you’re going to just take it away again. I don’t think I could survive it.”

Chris uses all the strength he can muster to pull Steve towards him until he falls down on the fold-out bed next to him.

He turns Steve’s face to his and kisses him before Steve can voice another protest, just presses his lips against his husband’s for the first time in…

He doesn’t even know. Chris doesn’t remember the last time he kissed his husband. His eyes tear up even more and he throws himself into the kiss, pressing as close to Steve as he can in his awkward position on the bed, one hand still around Steve’s wrist, the other buried in his long blonde hair.

Steve makes a noise low in his throat, sounding almost like he’s in pain and then he pushes Chris back against the pillows, following him quickly until his body is blanketing Chris’ completely and he’s lying in between Chris’ spread legs.

The kiss deepens, tongues exploring, and Chris moans. It’s almost like their first time all over again.

Chris can’t quite describe what it feels like to be kissing Steve after all this time, to have the weight of his husband’s body pressing him down into the mattress. It’s familiar and new and different all at the same time, and Chris can’t get enough. He can’t stop himself from running his hands through Steve’s hair, tilting his head for just the right angle. He can’t stop himself from getting hard, from shifting his hips against Steve’s.

With a shocked little sound, Steve pulls back, his blue eyes boring into Chris’.

With what he knows is a determined look on his face, Chris shifts again, his hard cock grinding against Steve’s own erection. Steve’s eyes flutter closed at the contact and Chris takes a moment to marvel how beautiful his husband is. Even after fifteen years, Steve is still the most gorgeous man Chris has ever seen.

Then Steve opens his eyes again, and, with a deep breath and a hard swallow, he starts to move.

It’s slow at first, both of them rocking against the other, and then Steve shifts, moves until he’s straddling Chris’ uninjured leg and his thigh is pressed between Chris’ legs, against his cock. He thrusts his hips, grinding up against him again, making Chris arch his back and groan out loud.

He throws his head back into the pillows beneath his head and Steve’s lips start dragging across the bared skin of his throat.

“Oh, God,” he moans into the stillness of the room, the only sounds filling it that of their heavy breathing and the moans and curses neither of them can hold back.

“Chris,” Steve breathes against his skin, licking a path up to his ear.

He’s not going to last, Chris knows that. Too long without and suddenly having Steve there, with him the way he used to be, has shot Chris’ stamina to shit.

Chris reaches out with his good arm and palms Steve’s ass through his jeans, urging him on, making him press harder, thrust harder. He can feel his orgasm creeping up on him, feel it building at the base of his spine and he uses what little strength he has to arch his hips up into Steve’s one last time, and then he’s coming, the fingernails of his right hand dig into Steve’s ass, while his left hand pulls on Steve’s hair until Steve’s lips are pressed to his, swallowing the deep moan that escapes him, as well as Steve’s name.

Above him, Steve tenses, and Chris knows that he’s reached his own edge and he pulls back a little so that he can look into Steve’s eyes, so that he can see the expression on his husband’s face as his climax takes over him.

“Shit,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse.

Chris doesn’t want to hear what he has to say next. Instead he pulls Steve down to his lips again, kissing him almost desperately.

“Hey,” Steve says gently after a few too-short minutes. He caresses the side of Chris’ face with one hand, a small smile on his own face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chris just nods, because it would be stupid to try to deny that that was exactly what he was thinking.

Still, he takes the opportunity to kiss his husband for a few minutes longer, less urgently, before Steve’s weight gets too much for his injured body to take and he has to ask him to move.

With a chuckle, Steve shifts until he’s lying next to Chris, on his right side, his head sharing the pillow with Chris.

“Can’t believe I just came in my jeans like a twelve year old,” he says with a sigh.

Chris makes a face. “I don’t really want to think about the fact that you were having sex when you were twelve. Especially when Olivia’s not far off that.”

Steve smiles. “Alright, fifteen year old, that better?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t really have a lot of experience before you.” Chris remembers the conversation in the hospital when he told Steve that he’d been a virgin before they slept together. Part of him thinks he should be embarrassed about the admission, but Steve is his husband, and even if they haven’t exactly been getting along lately, he’s still the only person on the planet who knows all of Chris’ secrets. It seems only fair to get the last one out in the open finally.

Steve tilts his head a little, observing Chris with a serious expression. “Why did you never tell me that? Did you think it would change something?”

Now Chris _is_ embarrassed and he ducks his head, hiding. “I knew that you…that you were with people before me, that you had a lot of experience. Not that I thought you were a slut or something,” he’s quick to correct, “but I knew you had…I didn’t want you to think you were getting in over your head or something. Not many people want to deal with virgins, man, and I was already so gone for you by our second date, I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

Steve reaches out to cup his cheek and Chris takes a moment to lean into the touch.

“Chris, at that point, you could have told me you were a serial killer, or an alien for Krypton or something and I wouldn’t have cared. Something like that never would have bothered me.” He grins. “I’m a little flattered, actually, that you decided I was worth it.”

“You were always worth it to me.”

It’s Steve’s turn to avert his eyes and he looks down to where Chris’ t-shirt has rucked up around his armpits. He reaches out to pull it down, straightening it and Chris grows concerned at the silence.

“Steve?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry for what I did to you, with all those faceless people. It wasn’t every night, but it was…” He trails off and Chris can hear tears in his voice again.

“Steve, I don’t want to talk about it,” he tells him firmly. “I just want to forget the last year and whatever never even happened.”

Steve meets his eyes again, something like gratitude and hope shining in the blue orbs, but he doesn’t sound grateful when he speaks. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy, Chris.”

“I know, but it doesn’t have to be as hard as you seem to be making it.” Chris takes hold of Steve’s hand, linking their fingers. “We’re here, we’re together, we have the girls. Those are the most important things. We can go from there.”

Steve nods. “Maybe we should think about counseling or something.”

“Maybe,” Chris says after some consideration. “But let’s just try first, okay? Now that we’re both on the same page, now that we know where we stand, it doesn’t have to be so hard again.”

“Alright,” Steve agrees, “just us. For now.”

He presses forward until his head is resting on Chris’ chest. Chris brings a hand up to card his fingers through his husband’s long blonde hair.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep.

@@@

When Steve wakes up the next morning, it’s to find Chris staring at him with a fond smile on his face and he groans, hiding his face in the pillow beneath his head.

“Okay, one thing I did not miss was _that_ ,” he says, his voice muffled.

“I did,” Chris tells him quietly. “I missed being able to look at you whenever I wanted.”

Steve turns back to look at his husband, a smile on his lips as he narrows his eyes. “Why do you do that? Watch me sleep, I mean?”

Chris pulls back a little, his eyes widening in alarm. “Does it creep you out? It does, doesn’t it? Has it always creeped you out?”

Steve chuckles again, reaching out to sooth his husband. “No, it doesn’t creep me out, I swear. I was just wondering why. I was just curious. That’s all.” Steve has never felt the need to watch Chris sleep; it just didn’t make sense to him when he could watch Chris when he was awake, when he could see the enthralling way his husband moved around as he did whatever it was he was doing.

Chris shrugs and burrows down deeper into the bedclothes. “It started the first night we slept together,” Chris says, and Steve can hear the honest tone in his voice. “I woke up, before dawn, I think. You were still asleep, but you were holding onto my arm – completely wrapped around me – like you were scared that I was gonna run out on you in the middle of the night. It was one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen.”

Steve reaches out and does exactly that, holding onto Chris’ right arm with both of his.

“You did it all the time after that,” Chris continues, his voice soft in the early morning hush. “It was a real bitch if I needed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.”

Steve stares down at his hands and Chris’ arm and smiles a little. “I never knew I did that.” He blinks, suddenly remembering something. “Olivia does it. That first night after the accident, the girls slept in our bed, and when I woke up the next morning, Olivia was doing exactly that.”

When Chris smiles, it looks a little sad and more than a little guilty. “Olivia’s more like you than Brett is. She takes after you a lot.”

Steve can hear the words Chris isn’t speaking. Olivia is more like him than Brett is because Brett never spent a lot of time with him when she was younger.

Chris groans. “And I just killed the atmosphere completely didn’t I?”

Steve uses the hold he has on Chris’ arm to pull him closer, until he can reach forward and kiss him gently. “I think the atmosphere’s just fine.”

Chris’ smile this time is a little brighter, and Steve kisses him again, just because he can. He wonders how long it’ll take for the novelty of being able to kiss Chris whenever he wants will wear off.

He hopes it never does.

“We should get out of bed,” Chris mumbles against his lip after they’ve been making out for a while.

With a whine at the loss of his husband’s lips, Steve rolls away to the edge of the bed, stretching as he yawns.

They’d woken up the night before only for Steve to make them a quick snack before tiredness took them back to bed. Apparently, their little heart to heart had really taken it out of both of them, but Steve is still a little in awe of the fact that Chris had asked him to stay with him on the fold-out couch. It was more than he’d been hoping for on the first night of their reconciliation.

“Breakfast?” Steve asks, turning to look at Chris over his shoulder.

Chris makes a face. “Bathroom first.”

Steve can’t help but laugh. They hadn’t spent much time cleaning themselves up last night, just a quick wash in the bathroom.

Together they struggle from the living to the bathroom down the hall and Steve settles Chris on the small stool in the shower stall while he gathers the things he needs to keep Chris’ cast and dressings dry while he showers.

He startles slightly when something flies by his head and he turns to see Chris’ t-shirt land on the bathroom floor with a hushed whisper. Steve looks up to see Chris fumbling with his shorts, trying – and failing – to get them off over the cast on his leg.

“Can’t you wait two seconds for me to help you?” Steve scolds, carrying everything he needs into the shower stall with him.

Chris just grumbles something Steve doesn’t catch and lets Steve pull the shorts the rest of the way of. The underwear Chris had been wearing the previous night has already been discarded, so Chris is suddenly naked in front of him and Steve tries very hard not to dwell on that fact as he covers the white cast on Chris’ left leg to stop it getting wet.

Rising to his feet, Steve makes sure the waterproof bandage covering the stitches on Chris’ shoulder is still holding tight before he turns to leave the stall. “I’ll get started on-”

His words are cut off when warm water hits him, soaking his shirt and boxers.

Turning, he cocks an eyebrow at Chris, but Chris just leans back, letting the water run over his face, cascading down his neck and chest. He cracks one eye open when Steve doesn’t move, and Steve can see the challenge in his eyes.

Quickly, he strips out of his clothes and steps back into the stall, pulling the doors closed behind him.

He’s barely beneath the spray when Chris reaches out for him, his left hand closing around Steve’s right hip and tugging him closer. Steve slips on the tile and he reaches out to steady himself on Chris’ shoulder.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back as Chris kisses his stomach, licking around his bellybutton.

Chris’ mouth moves lower and Steve loses himself in the feeling of knowing that he’s with Chris, that everything is back to being the way it’s supposed to be.

Steve can see something just out of the corner of his eye and he almost doesn’t look as Chris’ fingers ghost over his rapidly hardening dick, but then Chris’ hand moves from his hip, moves behind to cup the curve of his ass.

Forcing his eyes open against the stream of water, Steve looks down to see Chris search the shower caddy, until his fingers close around the shower gel.

In this position, it wouldn’t be easy but it wouldn’t be impossible either. All Steve has to do is straddle Chris, throw his legs on either side of his lover’s body and sink down on that beautiful cock that he can see is already hard and leaking.

But he can’t.

“Chris, stop.” The words are almost too painful to say, and the expression on Chris’ face when he looks up at him just about kills Steve completely.

“You don’t want me,” Chris says and it’s a statement, not a question, like everything they talked about the night before has been washed away down the drain.

“God,” Steve groans, fisting his hands in Chris’ hair and leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You have no idea how much I want you to fuck me right now.”

“Then why did you stop me?”

“I haven’t been tested.” He keeps it simple, spilling out the truth like he’s ripping off a Band-Aid. The faster the better.

“But you said you never…” Chris trails off, but Steve knows what he’s not saying.

He gets down on his knees, in between Chris’ legs. “I know what I said, and it was the truth. I never fucked anyone else. And no one fucked me. But I…” He stops talking, doesn’t really know what else to say.

It feels like he’s ruined everything they attempted to fix the night before with just a few simple words and he would do anything to take them back. But he can’t promise that he’s clean, even if he was as careful as he could be if he was on the giving end of things – which wasn’t often. The last thing he wants to do is infect Chris and destroy them completely.

Steve sighs and rests his head against Chris’ thigh when Chris stays silent. He can’t really blame the man; he wouldn’t know what to say either.

And then Chris’ fingers are carding through his wet hair and Steve blinks up at him against the water.

“First thing Monday, we’re going for our tests,” Chris says confidently, like it’s that simple. “In the meantime, there are other things we could be getting on with.”

Steve grins. “God, I love you.” The words are out of his mouth before he can think to hold them back, but the soft, loving look on Chris’ face is worth it and Steve surges up to kiss him, pressing their lips together painfully and licking into Chris’ mouth with more confidence that he thinks he should feel.

Chris pulls on his shoulder with his one good arm, and Steve realizes he wants Steve on his feet, but Steve has no intentions of going anywhere.

With one last, loving kiss, Steve wraps his hand around Chris’ soften cock and strokes him back to full hardness before he ducks his head and swipes his tongue across the crown.

Chris’ fingers tighten in his hair as he leans back against the wall of the shower, moaning Steve’s name, and to Steve, it’s the best sound he’s ever heard

Steve uses every bit of experience he has. He knows exactly what Chris likes and he pulls out his whole bag of tricks, pressing his tongue into the slit, using just a little teeth as he’s pulling back. He presses a finger to the skin just behind Chris’ balls, moving the digit back as Chris squirms on the stool until he presses against Chris’ hole. He doesn’t push his finger inside, just hold it there, the pressure enough as Chris rocks against him, thrusting up into his mouth and then down against his finger.

“Oh, Jesus, Steve.” Chris arches his back, pulling on Steve’s hair and then he lets out a vicious yell. Steve pulls his mouth away and it only takes a few more strokes before Chris’ orgasm hits, white strands of come hitting Steve’s face and hand before it’s washed away.

Still gasping for air, Chris pulls at Steve again, and this time he goes willingly, rising just enough for Chris to kiss him almost breathless.

“You don’t have to,” he assures as Chris forces him to stand up straight between his spread legs.

“Don’t be a moron, babe.”

And that right there is almost enough to make Steve orgasm on the spot. He can’t even remember the last time Chris used any sort of pet name towards him, and to know that they’re back in a place where Chris feels comfortable enough to allow himself to fall back into that habit makes Steve’s heart soar.

He lets out an undignified yelp when Chris’ lips lock around his straining cock and even before he begins Steve knows he isn’t going to last long.

Chris works his mouth like a pro, using everything he’s learned in the last fifteen years to work Steve to the edge. He uses his free hand to cup Steve’s balls, rolling them between his fingers, and then it’s all over and Chris pulls his mouth off as Steve’s orgasm hits hard.

“Chris, oh, fuck, Chris.”

It’s been a long time since he was allowed to say that name out loud when he comes and Steve embraces it, screaming his husband’s name as loud as he can as he shoots over Chris’ face.

Chris’ laughs out load as he leans in under the spray to wash the come off his face. “I am so glad the girls aren’t hear right now.”

Steve just smiles and watches him. He looks so happy, so young, like a huge burden has been lifted off of him and once more, Steve feels guilty for being the one to make Chris age before his time.

But he keeps his mouth shut as they finally get around to washing off in the cooling water.

He washes Chris’ hair as Chris presses light kisses to his stomach and strokes his sides.

“I’m not as young as I used to be, you know,” he says playfully as he rinses shampoo from his own hair before reaching past Chris to turn off the shower.

“Old man,” Chris teases, and Steve sticks his tongue out at him as he gets them both towels from the rail.

Once dried and dressed in the clean clothes Steve ran upstairs to get, Steve makes breakfast and they settle at the bar in the kitchen to eat.

“Why are you so quiet?” Chris asks after a few minutes of silence and Steve flushes guiltily at being caught moping.

Chris rolls his eyes. “I told you we’ll go get tested Monday. It’ll be alright.”

Steve shakes his head. “But that’s just it; we shouldn’t have to get tested. I shouldn’t be that bastard who forces his spouse to get an STI check because he can’t keep it in his fucking pants. God!” he pushes his plate away. “Why don’t you hate me right now? You told me once that cheating was the one thing you couldn’t forgive me for, so why are you forgiving me now?”

“Because you’re not the only one who fucked up here,” Chris says. “We both did stupid shit. You fucked around with other people, yes, but you wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t turned you away. We’re both just as guilty over this.”

“I don’t accept that.”

Chris sighs. “Look, if you’d done this five, seven years ago, then, yeah, I probably would have kicked your ass out. Because we were happy then. We weren’t happy when you did that, Steve.”

“Doesn’t matter, I was still a married man, a father.”

Chris lets out a sound that’s barely above a growl as he scrubs his hands across his face. “I’m not having the same argument with you for the next twenty years, Steve. I’m willing to forget all about it and move on with our lives, why aren’t you?”

Steve swallows hard. “Because I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to realize you’re better off without me. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Chris.”

“I love you,” Chris says almost forcefully. “I have always loved you. And being in love with someone means learning how to forgive them for their mistakes.”

“But I-”

“No,” Chris says sharply, cutting him off. “End of discussion. We’re not having this argument again, are we clear?”

Steve nods. “Clear.”

“Good.” There’s a twinkle in Chris’ eyes as he returns to his breakfast and Steve just leans back a little to watch, comfortable in the fact that he can.

He’s so lost in his own thoughts – lost in the feeling of finally being back in Chris’ presence – that he startles a little when the front door opens.

Steve frowns when there’s no more movement from whoever just came in and he exchanges a concerned look with Chris, who simply shrugs one shoulder and sips his coffee.

With a confused grunt, Steve gets down from his stool and crosses the kitchen to pull the door open.

Jaime lets out a surprised squeak. “Morning!”

Steve blinks at her and then looks down at his watch. “It’s not even ten o’clock, what the hell are you doing here so early?”

Jaime deflates a little. “The girls wouldn’t sleep last night. The only reason I got them to stay in their sleeping bags was because I told them I’d bring them over here first thing.”

“Olivia hasn’t been out of bed before ten in the morning on a Saturday since she was seven,” Chris comments from the breakfast bar. “What the hell have you been feeding her, Carlson?”

Steve glares over his shoulder. “You think this has less to do with me and more to do with a certain someone getting their memory back?”

Chris pauses with his coffee mug half-way to his lips. “Oh.”

Jaime ushers Steve back a little so that she can step into the kitchen and close the door behind her. “I left the girls in the front hallway while I came and spoke to you guys.”

“About what?” Steve asks.

Jaime just glares at him and turns to Chris. “Are you guys okay?”

Chris sets his mug down and licks his lips. “Yeah, we…um, we talked things over, and yeah, we’re okay.”

She arches an eyebrow at Steve and he shrugs. “What he said.”

“So, if I let the girls in here, there will be no huge family reunion type thing, only for you guys to tell me next month that everything’s going south?”

Steve blushes, because he can’t really answer that, especially when he just told Chris he was just waiting for him to change his mind.

“We’re good, Jaime. I promise.” Chris’ voice is full of confidence and when Steve looks over at him, he has a determined look on his face that Steve finds he can’t argue with.

“Alright then.” Jaime opens the door again and disappears through it.

She’s only gone a few minutes, just long enough for Steve to sit back on his stool, before she’s back, standing behind two worried looking little girls.

“I thought you said you were gonna be good for Aunt Jaime?” Steve reprimands gently.

“We were good,” Olivia pouts, but Steve can tell she know it’s not the complete truth by the way she’s shuffling her feet.

“We’ll talk about that later,” he assures them and they both nod.

“Can we see Daddy now?” Brett inquires quietly and Steve can’t help but smile at her.

“He’s sitting right there. If you can’t see him, maybe we should be taking you to the doctor’s,” he teases gently, then watches with glee as the girls race across the kitchen towards Chris, practically jumping into his arms. “Careful!” he scolds. “Daddy might have his memory back, but he’s still got other injuries, so just be careful.”

“Aw, quit worrying so much and let me hug my girls,” Chis laughs as he pulls Brett into his lap and tucks Olivia under one arm.

“I missed you, Daddy,” Olivia tells Chris, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

Chris kisses the top of her head. “I missed you, too, Baby.”

“Daddy?” Brett calls, her voice tiny. “Are you mad me ‘cause I told Dad the secret?”

Chris’ smile turns soft and he pushes Brett’s hair away from her face. “No, Brett, I’m not mad at you for that, I could never be mad at you. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that, and I’m very sorry that I asked you to lie to Dad and Olivia like that. Do you forgive me?” Chris sticks out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout and Steve has to hide his laugh behind his coffee cup as the girls giggle helplessly.

“I forgive you, Daddy,” Brett declares. She reaches up to kiss’s temple and Steve’s reminded of the night he found Brett and Olivia sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to kiss Chris’ broken head better.

He can’t help but think it worked.

**Epilogue**

**One Year Later.**

The club is packed, crowded and sweaty, and Chris feels completely out of his element. He doesn’t even know what possessed him to agree to coming here, this isn’t his scene and he certainly doesn’t like the music that’s pumping through the speakers, the heavy bass doing nothing but giving him a headache.

With a deep sigh, Chris sets his untouched beer down on the bar and turns towards the exit.

“Leaving? So soon?” says a voice from behind him, shouting to be heard over the deafening noise.

It’s the accent that makes Chris turn around more than anything. He’s not used to hearing a British accent out here in LA.

He nods when the man just stares at him, one eyebrow cocked and a smug expression on his face. “Yeah, I, uh, I gotta get back.”

“Ah,” he says, sliding closer. “Had about as much as you can take, have you? Let me guess, this isn’t really your scene, am I right?”

Chris looks around at the mass of writhing bodies, at the men on the dance floor who are only a few moves away from an orgy and knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he never should have agreed to come to the gay club.

“No,” he tells the man, “it’s really not.” Chris turns and heads for the exit.

The man laughs. “The closeted guys are always easy to spot. Run along home to your wife, I’ll look for you next week.”

Chris stops, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You think I’m some closet case?” he asks as he turns back to face him. “What, you think I’d come here – of all places – to fulfill some hidden desire so that my innocent little wife doesn’t find out?”

The man shrugs. “Aren’t you?”

Chris laughs. “I’m a writer for an online magazine. I was sent here by my editor to review this place, because apparently, because I’m gay, I should he used to this kind of place.”

The man stands up straight, the smug look wiped from his face in an instant. “You’re Mr. Kane?”

Chris laughs louder. “Let me guess, you’re the manager?”

“Mark, Mark Sheppard,” he babbles. “Please, Mr. Kane, I meant no disrespect.”

“It’s Mr. Carlson-Kane,” Chris corrects instantly. “And I think I’ve decided that this definitely isn’t the sort of place my husband and I would frequent. I’ll make sure to mention in my article that this isn’t the sort of place for married or committed gay men.”

He leaves Mark gawping at the bar and heads for the exit, taking a few deep breaths as soon as he gets outside, grateful for the fresh air.

His car is parked just a few blocks away and he hurries to it, not bothering to stop on the dark sidewalk. Once behind the wheel, Chris guns the engine and heads for home.

The magazine had made arrangements for him to stay at some fancy hotel for the night, but after the seediness of the club, Chris just wants to get home. He’s aware of what time it is, and he knows he shouldn’t be driving so late, but he can’t seem to stop himself, can’t seem to make himself head to the hotel as he turns onto the road that will take him home.

The drive takes more than an hour, and Chris has never been so happy to see his house come into view, and he steps on the gas a little, just to get there that much quicker.

He frowns when he pulls into the driveway behind the black SUV. There’s a dim light glowing through the drapes in the living room. It’s close to two in the morning; Chris had expected to come home to a dark and silent house, making him creep silently up the stairs and slide into bed. He wasn’t expecting a welcoming committee.

He opens and closes the front door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing his way to the living room. The door his open and soft light from the end table lamp illuminates the room and the lone figure sleeping on the couch.

Steve is covered with one of Brett’s blankets; his bare feet peeking out the bottom and Chris can do nothing for a long time but stand in the doorway and stare.

It’s been over a year since the accident, since Chris and Steve worked out their marriage problems and got their relationship back on track. Things have been good since then, better than good, better than they’ve ever been and for Chris to come home to find Steve asleep on the couch, just like before, it makes something in his chest clench painfully.

It’s achingly familiar and Chris can’t take the reminder of a darker time. He crosses the living room in quick strides and kneels down on the floor in front of his husband.

“Hey,” he says gently, not wanting to startle him. Steve doesn’t wake, though, doesn’t even some much as twitch.

With a smile, Chris reaches out and flicks the end of his nose, falling back on his ass as Steve jumps, completely alert.

“What? Brett? What’s wrong?” Chris lets out a breathy little laugh and Steve looks down at him, frowning adorably. “Chris? What the hell are you doing here? I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.”

Chris shrugs and gets to his feet, sitting down on the couch once Steve moves. “Needed to come home. Don’t like being away.”

Steve stares at him, his brow creased in confusion. “Did something happen?”

Chris sighs. “I never should have agreed to take that stupid assignment. The law of averages suggests that there should be at least one other gay man working for that magazine. Preferably one that doesn’t have a husband and children waiting for him at home.”

“That bad, huh?” Steve says with a sympathetic smile.

“It was…just somewhere for men to go when they’re looking for sex. It was nothing like my editor described it. And the manager hit on me.”

“He did what?!” Steve squeaks.

“He thought I was some closeted guy who was looking to get his rocks off before he went home to his wife. I get the feeling that that’s what that place is all about. Cheap beer and easy sex.”

Steve makes a face. “Not exactly the kind of place I imagine you’d want to endorse.”

“You got that right,” Chris says with a snort. He pauses. “Did you ever…” he shakes his head and trails off.

“Chris, I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about that?”

“I don’t,” Chris agrees, and the truth is that he really, really doesn’t. But the idea is still there, at the back of his mind, seeing his husband’s face in the mass off bodies on the dance floor, grinding against some nameless person.

“Do you miss it?” he asks suddenly, too shocked by the thought to try and hold the words back.

Steve lets out a dry laugh. “Miss what? Going out every night and getting smashed off my face so that I don’t have to deal with the pain of missing my husband? Getting off with some faceless nobody and pretending it’s you? No, Chris. I don’t miss it. I didn’t even want to be doing it in the first place.”

“I’m sorry,” Chris admits quietly. They don’t talk about what happened before the crash, for good reason, Chris suspects. It’s easier just to let it all go, to pretend nothing had happened. They were both wrong, they had both fucked up, and now they were both working hard to make it right.

It was strange for Chris at first, having Steve there all the time, attentive and loving, just like he used to be. But then the strangeness went away, and it was just Steve, his loving husband and father of his daughters. Their world had been right again.

And then Chris had to go and fuck it all up by asking stupid fucking questions.

Steve shifts on the couch until he can throw one leg over Chris’ thighs, straddling him. Chris lets his hands rest on Steve’s hips, holding on and pulling the man in tight against him.

“If you’re asking me if I’d choose those nameless bimbos over you and Brett and Olivia, then I must not have been doing a very good job this past year if you don’t already know the answer.”

“I know the answer,” Chris confirms, his voice breathy as Steve moves against him. “I just like to hear you say it.”

“I love you,” Steve tells him forcefully. “There is no one on this earth who I would rather be with; who I would rather was beneath me right now. No one else I want to split me open and take me right here.”

He words make Chris gasp, make his hips arch upwards, grinding against his husband.

“Steve,” he breathes, the tips of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of the shorts Steve is wearing. It wasn’t what he was expecting when he came home so late, thinking that he would just crawl into bed next to his husband and sleep for a few hours before he surprised the girls in the morning when they got up for school.

But he can’t deny the effect Steve’s words are having on his body. He’s already hard and leaking in his jeans, and the press of Steve’s ass down on him is not helping matters.

“Come on,” Steve whispers in his ear. “It can be like old times.”

Old times, before the girls were born, when they would make love anywhere and everywhere as soon as the mood hit them. It’s another one of those things that they had sacrificed for the girls and Chris is desperate for just this one little piece of their old lives.

“Please,” he replies and Steve is off his lap in an instant, leaving Chris gasping on the couch as he flies up the stairs.

Chris struggles out of his shirt as he waits on the couch. There’s a slight twinge of pain as his left shoulder pulls the wrong way. It’s something he’s had to learn to get used to, one of the few reminders he has of the crash and something the doctors have told him will be unlikely to disappear completely.

Chris is thankful for it, though, thankful that he has something to remind him of the crash, of the one split-second accident that changed his whole life for the better.

He doesn’t want to think about where he would be right now if the crash had never happened.

His hands are fumbling with his jeans, working open the belt and lowering the zipper, when he hears Steve pounding back down the stairs. It’s on the tip of his tongue to scold him for being so loud, but then Steve is standing in the doorway, shirtless, the tattoos on his arms glowing in the soft light, and the words die in his throat.

“Fuck me,” he pants as he stares and Steve grins as he cross the room.

“Thought I was on the receiving end tonight.”

Chris just groans and throws his head back against the back of the couch. Steve tosses the items he went upstairs to fetch onto the couch cushion next to Chris and reaches for the fly of Chris’ jeans. He urges Chris to lift his hips and then he pulls the pants off, throwing them over his shoulder, not caring where they land and Chris laughs when they hit the TV.

His underwear is next and Chris hisses through his teeth as the material brushes against his hard cock, and then suddenly, he’s naked and Steve’s hand is wrapped around him.

Steve sinks to his knees and licks a stripe up the underside of Chris’ cock before he takes the head into his mouth, sucking gently.

“Steve,” he moans, fisting his hands in Steve’s hair. “Oh, God, this is going to be over real quick if you keep that up.”

Steve pulls off with a chuckle, running his hand up and down the length if Chris’ cock one more time before he climbs back to his feet.

Chris watches, dry-mouthed, as Steve strips out of the shorts he’d been sleeping in and straddles Chris’ thighs again.

He picks up one of his discarded items and presses the bottle into Chris’ hand.

Chris looks down and the lube and then up at Steve. He kisses him, long and slow and perfect as he works open the lid and pouring a generous amount into the palm of his hand.

He keeps kissing Steve as he slicks his fingers and pushes one inside. Steve keens into his mouth, rocking up on his knees a little and then down on Chris’ finger.

“Another,” he mumbles into the kiss and Chris adds another finger, scissoring them apart and stretching the muscle, pumping in and out of Steve and after another minute or, Steve asks for more.

“Impatient much?” Chris pulls away to ask. Whatever he was going to say next dies on his tongue at the heated look on Steve’s face.

“Want you,” Steve declares, fucking himself back on Chris’ fingers. “Now.”

Chris nods his head shakily and pulls his fingers free. Steve reaches down his side and produces a condom he obviously collected with the lube.

Chris raises an eyebrow at him. Ever since their test results came back clean a year ago – much to Steve’s relief – they’ve been foregoing condoms for the most part. Steve shrugs. “Don’t really wanna risk making that kinda mess down here.”

Chris blushes; because of course he’s right. Explaining away stains like that to Brett’s questions would be more than embarrassing.

Chris bites down on his bottom lip as Steve rolls the condom onto him, slicking him up.

And then Steve is lining himself up and sinking down on Chris’ latex-covered cock and it’s all Chris can do to keep in the loud moan that’s threatening to escape him.

It’s been interesting, learning how to have quiet sex again. The last thing either of them wants is for one of the girls to wake up and wonder at the noises coming from their room. They’ve made the most the nights their daughters have been out of the house, at sleepovers at Jaime’s or friends from school, but for the most part, Chris has learned to let Steve come up with interesting ways to keep him quiet.

“Always so vocal,” Steve says cockily as he pauses when Chris is fully sheathed inside of him.

Chris shifts his hips a little, forcing his cock deeper into Steve’s body and watches as Steve’s eyes roll back in his head as Chris hits his prostate.

There’s no more words after that, not really, just grunts and groans and curses as Steve rocks his body on Chris’ dick, Chris thrusting his hips up every time Steve sinks down.

It’s slow, and sweet and amazing, and Chris doesn’t care that he’s never been with anyone else. Nothing could be better than what he’s got right here. He doesn’t understand how those guys at the club can do it, just go out and find someone for a quick fuck in a dirty alley, when they could have something real and meaningful like this.

He understands why Steve did it, but that’s a different story that Chris refuses to think about anymore.

Steve leans down to kiss him, but they’re both so out of breath that they’re simply panting against each other’s lips.

Another few minutes and Chris can feel his orgasm creeping up on him, that tightening in his stomach as he nears that edge. He takes one had from Steve’s hip and wraps it around his cock, pumping in him counter rhythm to the way Steve is still riding him.

“Chris, oh, fuck, yes,” Steve gasps as his movements get less controlled, and then he’s coming, spilling over Chris’ hand and both their stomachs. His whole body spasms, his orgasm ripping through him, clamping down on Chris and pulling his own orgasm out of him.

They collapse against each other, their breathing harsh and labored in the silence of the living room.

“Damn, that never gets old,” Steve pants, and Chris can only silently agree.

It’s another few minutes before either of them can move and Chris hisses when Steve lifts himself off his softening dick. He reaches for the shirt Chris discarded and cleans them up with it before he strips Chris of the condom, wrapping it in tissues from the end table before throwing it into the trash can along with the wrapper.

“Come on,” he says when he holds a hand out to Chris. “Bed.”

Chris groans and allows himself to be pulled from the couch. He slips into his boxers while Steve redresses in his shorts, and collects his jeans from the TV and throwing them and his shirt over the back of the chair, deciding he’ll put them both in the laundry in the morning.

Steve snaps off the table lamp and leads them both out of the living room and up the stairs. Chris wraps his arms around his husband’s waist from behind, nosing the long blonde hair aside so that he can kiss his neck.

Steve chuckles. “Thought I told you I wasn’t as young as I used to be?”

Chris shrugs as they reach their room. “I’m just happy to be home, not really looking for round two. I’m getting old, too, you know.”

Steve breaks out of his hold and spins around to face him. “Still looking damn good from where I’m standing.”

Chris shakes his head and closes the gap between them. “Sap.” He kisses Steve sweetly, then turns him towards the bed.

Once under the covers, Steve moves into his space and Chris doesn’t object when he lays his head on Chris’ chest.

He doesn’t want Steve to be anywhere else.

“Hey,” he says into the darkness. It takes Steve a while to answer and Chris thinks he’s fallen asleep already when he grunts. “Why were you sleeping on couch?”

Steve snuggles closer to him, draping an arm across Chris’ waist. His voice is muffled with sleep when he speaks. “Bed’s too big when you’re not here.”

Those aren’t tears in Chris’ eyes. There are no witnesses.


End file.
